


Protectors of the Realm

by BecauseBraime



Series: First of Her Name [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, The Long Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 88,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Two years after the birth of their triplets, Jaime and Brienne must lead a united Westeros in the fight against the dead. They've been preparing for what is to come, but the Night King proves a greater foe than they imagined.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister & Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister & Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark, Tywin Lannister & Selwyn Tarth
Series: First of Her Name [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815562
Comments: 454
Kudos: 295





	1. Two Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> This might be difficult to read without starting with Part 1. In attempt to summarize, Jaime is released from the Kingsguard and agrees to marry Brienne after returning to King's Landing without a hand. They agreement with Tywin is that he will take Tyrion and Sansa with him and Brienne to the Rock. He marries Brienne, but before they can leave, he is blamed at the Purple Wedding for Joffrey's death and Brienne champions him. The truth of her lineage is revealed as heir to the throne and she is crowned. Tywin began his redemption arc in Part 1. Tywin loses his hand when he is captured by the Boltons during the northern rebellion with Stannis' army of sellswords. That part would have left off around early season 6. This is bringing us to season 8 timeline.

It was the triplets second nameday. Tywin chuckled beside Selwyn as the little lions chased each other around the gardens with their wooden tourney swords. The day of their birth flashed before Tywin’s eyes as he watched them with unbridled joy writ across his face.

Genna had just come to the room and informed them of the birth. After confirmation of Brienne’s successful labor and recovery, Jaime fell to his knees sobbing. Tywin looked to his wrists, half expecting to find two hands attached as though it was all a dream. When his maimed arm came into view, Tywin looked back to Jaime and willed his son off the floor.

“Come see your family, son. Don’t be a fool as I was.”

With reddened eyes, Jaime nodded wordlessly and rose to his feet. Their hasty walk to the room felt surreal. Just earlier that day, Tywin had been reading of the Tarth Triplets during Aegon the Conqueror’s reign. He knew the tale was recorded in history and accepted throughout Tarth, but Tywin through it little more than a silly tale like that of the White Walkers.

_Twins, I can comprehend. Triplets, I cannot._

When they reached Brienne’s door, Selwyn and Endrew were still on guard. Both men refused to change shifts while the queen was in labor. Wide smiles adorned their faces as the Lannister men passed by mutely.

All Tywin saw when he entered the room was a golden glow. The setting sun had broken through the earlier cloud cover and painted a soft golden hue over the room’s occupants. The earlier chaos was replaced by a serene scene. Olenna stood by the bed holding a babe in her arms as Brienne held another.

Brienne was pale and fatigued but beaming at the babe in her arms. In that moment, Brienne appeared ethereal to Tywin. In the corner, Pycelle and the midwife looked over the third babe, speaking in hushed tones.

Everything seemed to be happening around Tywin. It was as though he was a shadow in the room. Jaime moved quickly onto the bed and kneeled beside Brienne, pulling her head to his. A choked sob pushed past his lips as he closed his eyes and held her tight.

Brienne spoke in reassuring tones as Jaime settled himself and looked down to one of their babes. He sniffled and shook his head. “I was japing about making more than one at a time. Must you take everything so seriously?” His tone was light, and a smile tugged at his lips.

“Sit, Jaime. Hold your son.” Brienne’s voice reflected the battle she had endured. The sight of her so well after birthing three babes was awe-inspiring. Tywin hardly knew what to do with himself. It wasn’t until Genna spoke that Tywin realized she was at his side.

“Go on you great dolt. See your grandbabes.”

As Tywin was shoved forward, he saw Olenna raise an amused brow. “This little one was the loudest lion. He took the longest to settle, but obviously my natural likability did the trick.” A smile tugged at Tywin’s lips as he looked to his grandson. 

He had so many questions, but Tywin’s ability to form words eluded him. His hand cupped the blonde fuzz adorning the baby’s crown. Tywin marveled at how soft the boy’s hair was.

Looking to his left, Tywin saw Jaime looking down at another babe; his eyes wide in awe and filled with unshed tears. Brienne was positioning Jaime’s arms around the babe as he settled against the pillows behind him.

_He’s never held a babe before. The irony that these three now double his total, and yet, they are the first to be his. Lannisters._

Tywin’s eyes moved to the other side of the room where Pycelle and the midwife were nodding and continuing to speak quietly.

_What of that little one?_

Wordlessly, Tywin walked to them. His eyes landed on the babe. This one was the smallest of the lot and the babe’s color not as strong. At his approach, Pycelle stammered. “The girl, my lord. It seems her brother’s took more than their share in the womb. She came out struggling for breath, but she is stable now. We’re just observing her more closely.”

The midwife looked to Tywin with warmth in her eyes. “We were just about to bring her back to the Queen. A mother’s warmth saved this one. Being held will keep her strong.”

The words were not lost on Tywin. They echoed the sentiment that Tywin expressed to Jaime earlier that day. _‘Don’t let them go and they’ll be stronger for it.’_

“May I hold her?” Tywin’s eyes darted to the midwife and then to Brienne as he sought permission. At his words, Jaime’s and Brienne’s eyes snapped to him.

Brienne smiled widely. “Of course. She is your granddaughter.”

The midwife placed the babe in Tywin’s arms and in that moment, his heart was lost to him. His little granddaughter stole away with it; never to return. In his arms, the babe yawned and nuzzled close. The gesture reminded him so much of Jaime when held by Joanna many years ago.

_She will be the strongest of the pride._

Tywin’s memories of the triplets birth were interrupted by little Catelyn. “Grandpa Sel! Grandpa Ty! Look! I win!” Sure enough, Cat’s brothers were on the grass laughing in defeat.

“Ha! That’s our girl! Don’t take any shit from the boys.” Selwyn clapped in encouragement at the young tot.

The little girl came toddling over to them; a bundle of energy. The sun’s rays caught the lion pendant that once belonged to Jaime. For as much as Tywin was taken by Catelyn, so was Jaime. The moment Jaime held little Cat, the babe had him wrapped around her finger.

Catelyn had big blue eyes, full lips, and pale skin like her mother. The rest of her features, including her stature, were all Lannister. She was the smaller of the triplets, but her personality eclipsed the boys.

Catelyn was the leader of the three tots. She was stubborn and determined as her mother, but also a profound thinker for her age. She absorbed everything you told her, and you could see her mind working.

Her brothers soon stood from defeat and ran towards them. They were identical and difficult to tell apart. Every time Tywin looked upon the boys, it was as though he was staring into the face of a young Jaime. Every feature save their stature was all Jaime. Tywin mused they may rival Selwyn in size by the time they stopped growing.

Were it not for the boys’ speech patterns, Tywin considered it may well be impossible to tell them apart. Little Selwyn was always roaring like a lion. He was loud but spoke the fewest words of the three. His speech was more challenging to understand, and his siblings often had to translate for him.

Pycelle said it was too early to worry over. Particularly for multiple births, it was not uncommon for them to develop their own language of sorts, and a reliance on one another to communicate their needs.

In addition to being the loudest, little Selwyn was the wild triplet. Some might say in jest that the boy was borderline feral. He was constantly pulling some stunt that caused the castle staff to gasp and run to aid him, but he never needed it. The boy always landed on his feet. He was the first to walk. The first to run. The first to climb.

Then there was little Tywin. When Jaime first shared the boy’s name, Tywin thought he misheard. _“I’m sorry, what was that? Tyrion?”_

The shock still hit Tywin every time he saw the boy. _They honored me. Me of all people. The shit that I was, and my son still named the babe after me._

Little Tywin was the quiet triplet; a true observer. He enjoyed being read to and watching his siblings spar. He was the most patient of the three and rarely fussed.

The young tot seemed to take responsibility for his brother, little Selwyn. He often tried to parent his feral brother, and he was quick to act as little Selwyn’s translator when adults couldn’t understand what little Selwyn was roaring about.

Of course, Tywin liked to give Selwyn a difficult time about it. _“I hope they name Tywin Lannister heir to Tarth.”_

Selwyn always gave it right back to Tywin. _“And I hope Lord Tywin is ruled by King Selwyn Lannister of Tarth, first of his name.”_

Brienne and Jaime insisted that no child be named heir to the throne nor Tarth until they were older. It was important that their personalities were assessed before such a critical decision was made.

To be safe, Grandmaester Pycelle had noted the birth order of the babes in the unlikely event of Brienne’s death before the heir was formally declared. As the grandfathers sipped on their brandy the night prior, they both agreed. Little Catelyn should be heir to the Iron Throne.

Tywin believed Brienne and Jaime had the same opinino on the matter, but they had yet to state it outright. The council was clear, however. Brienne and Jaime needed to name the heir before the dead arrived.

Both Selwyn and Tywin had arrived in the King’s Landing a week prior. They both spent half the year in the capital and half the year at home. Both men coordinated those six moons in King’s Landing around one another’s schedule. They enjoyed seeing their grandbabes, but they also enjoyed their evening brandy together overlooking the yards and watching their children play with the grandbabes.

As the tots returned to running around the gardens, a familiar voice caught their attention. Without looking up, Tywin smiled in amusement at the sound of Tyrion rushing over to engage the children.

Tyrion adored his nephews and niece. It was safe to say that their parents aside, Tyrion was the triplets favorite person. At the sounds of the children’s squeals of delight, Tywin looked up to see Tyrion rolling around the grass with the tots as Jaime made his way towards them.

Jaime sat down in dramatic fashion and reached for some of the cured meat on the platter at their table.

“How was the council meeting?” Tywin asked the question offhandedly as he appraised his eldest son. It had not gone unnoticed how tired Jaime looked, and Tywin worried after him.

“Same as usual. Olenna called me irredeemable. Oberyn and Varys squabbled over the speed with which the dragonglass weapons are being produced. Genna yelled at me for eating all the grapes. Daenerys rambled on about her amazing husband and how he was ‘kissed by fire’. Whatever the fuck that means. Apparently Addam got the idea from Tormund Gods damned Giantsbane.”

Tywin snorted and patted Jaime’s back with his maimed arm. “Where is the queen?”

“With Sansa. At this point, I believe she prays for triplets if it ensures an early delivery.” Jaime rolled his eyes as he spoke. As enjoyable as the triplets were, they were a handful. Both Jaime and Brienne looked fatigued from sleepless nights spent tending to the babes.

They didn’t want a septa raising their babes given Brienne’s poor experience with her own septa growing up. While they did have aid with the babes, they insisted on spending much of the day with their little ones when not occupied with their duties to the realm.

When Tywin first heard of Sansa’s pregnancy seven moons ago, he mused that perhaps he was dead after all. Between Jaime’s triplets and now Tyrion’s babe on the way, Tywin was filled to the brim with happiness.

Jaime and Brienne however were singlehandedly consuming all the moon tea in the Seven Kingdoms. With the threat of the dead looming, they did not want to risk another pregnancy when Brienne planned to fight with her people in the war to come.

The lords paramount had been summoned for a special summit to discuss the war to come. Those not already in the city had begun arriving days prior. The summit would be held in four days’ time, and Tywin was most curious to hear of any updates on the progress of the Night King’s army.

A small voice that Tywin so adored called out. “Father!”

As Catelyn ran over to their table, Jaime extended his arms to the young girl. “My Cat! Have you been beating up your brothers again?”

“I win!” The young girl smiled and grabbed her father’s cheeks in her tiny hands. Her golden curls framed her face as her sapphire eyes sparkled with mirth.

Tyrion and the boys made their way over to the table. The two youngsters beamed at their uncle and grabbed at his arms in a desperate bid for his attention. As Tyrion sat down, the boys clambered onto his lap and vied for his attention.

The men made idle conversation and picked at the platter until they were interrupted by an attendant.

“My lords. The contingent from the North is nearing the city gates. Her Grace would like everyone there to greet them.”

With a sigh, Tyrion stood and extended his arms to take one of the boys. A long day would now be made longer. They had received word from Lord Jon almost a moon prior that they would set out for King’s Landing at the behest of the queen.

They also had word of the Night King’s position. Apparently, they had a way to track the dead’s progress. Joining Jon’s party and acting as a tracker, was Bran Stark.


	2. Death Comes For Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The North arrives and Bran has a lot of information to share.

Brienne finished drying off from her bath. Only moments earlier, an attendant had informed her of the North’s arrival at the city gates. It seemed that even Brienne’s baths were interrupted nowadays; if not by the triplets than by an attendant.

With a heavy sigh, Brienne dressed for the day and looked in the mirror. Two years of motherhood to triplets while ruling Westeros had proven no small task. During the first six moons after the triplets were born, Brienne seemed to forget what sleep was and for that matter, where she was. It was as though she spent the days walking the long corridors of the Keep in a fog.

Jaime adapted to life with triplets no better. The only thing that kept them going through the haze was each other. Watching Jaime walk into a wall or two while half-awake didn’t hurt either. There was something charming about seeing Jaime off his mark.

They had tried to do too much themselves in those first moons. Despite acknowledging help would be necessary for nursing the babes, neither considered how difficult it would be to manage the children while ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

Brienne and Jaime brought in a Septa to mind the girls while they heard petitioners or attended small council meetings. Outside of those commitments and their training, they insisted on tending to the children’s needs themselves.

When Selwyn and Tywin were in King’s Landing, the septa was not needed as often and the young woman would instead help tidy up the nursery or take soiled garments to the household staff.

Much of Brienne’s hesitance to ask more of the children’s septa was deeply rooted in her abuse at the hands of Septa Roelle. When Selwyn sat her down one night and implored them to ask more of the triplets’ septa, she explained why. The fact that Selwyn had no idea of what she endured with Roelle was no surprise to Brienne.

Selwyn was an incredible father, but he went through a rough period after Galladon’s drowning. In the span of a year, Selwyn had lost his wife, twin daughters, and son. He busied himself with ruling the island and taking a new whore to bed every year. When the cloud lifted, it was too late. The damage from Septa Roelle was done and Brienne would always carry that with her.

Brienne was adamant that her children never endure what she had. She feared the children may grow to look like her, and Brienne wanted to ensure the triplets did not have a cruel septa filling their heads with hurtful words. It was also important to Brienne that the triplets learn to appreciate what they have.

Growing up in the Red Keep with sovereigns for parents could do more harm than good. It could breed arrogance and disconnect from those they would someday rule. Brienne made certain that the children treated the household staff respectfully as they did their own their kin. Courtesies and manners were a mandate in their little pride.

As Brienne prepared to leave the room, the door swung open to reveal Jaime. He moved inside and immediately screamed in pain as his ankle rolled on one of several toys left out by the children.

“Why!? Why is this always here? Don’t they have a nursery to play in?” Grimacing and kicking the toys to the side with his foot, Jaime looked to Brienne and smiled teasingly.

“Don’t you like nice. Are you trying to impress a certain wildling who is likely here with our Northern guests?”

_Gods. Here we go._

They had been able to make light of the Tormund situation once Jaime came to realize how secure he was in their marriage. He understood that Brienne’s heart was his and his alone. That she would never use her position or body to seek gains and alliances. Of course, he should have understood that knowing Brienne as he did, but Cersei had left deep scars.

With a teasing smile, Brienne held Jaime’s eyes. Her tone matched her features. “My cousin tells me how much _fun_ redheads can be. I thought…”

Before she could finish, Jaime surged across the room and silence her with a kiss. The kiss started innocently enough, but then Brienne felt the familiar shift in the atmosphere when their lips came together. On any other day, she would have enjoyed the stolen moment with Jaime. Knowing their Northern guests were on the way to the Keep however, made her take pause.

With a gentle hand to Jaime’s chest, Brienne broke the kiss and raised a brow. “I doubt there’s time for that.”

“There is always time for that. You’re the queen. You can be late if it pleases you.” Jaime’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he moved to pull her in for another kiss.

“Where are the children?” Brienne placed a finger on his lips as she spoke. Biting back a smile at his returning pout, Brienne started to move towards the door.

Jaime sighed and followed her from the room. “With their grandfathers and uncle. I’m certain they’re destroying the courtyard as we speak.”

The Queensguard fell into step behind them as they made their way through the halls. Lord Jon was one of only two remaining Lords Paramount to arrive at the capital. The last was Lady Yara Greyjoy.

A year prior, Euron had led a rebellion and attempted to pillage many of the western coastal cities. To this day, it was unclear to the small council what precisely Euron was rebelling against. It was a laughable matter in hindsight. Daenerys and Brienne disposed of Euron after a leisurely flight over the Sunset Sea. His fleet lay at the bottom of the seabed.

Yara had bent the knee immediately and was granted her birthright. Her younger brother, Theon, was with Yara during her trip to King’s Landing to pledge fealty. Were it not for Sansa’s presence at court that day, no one would have recognized the man.

Theon had been tortured both physically and emotionally at the hands of the Boltons. When the Boltons and Freys fell at Casterly Rock, Theon had been locked away in a cell in the bowels of the Keep. Tyrion instructed the men to search the cells, but only Theon was found. At the time, no one knew who he was until Arya saw him.

Theon would only mutter the name “Reek” and he refused to exit the cell once freed. The staff hardly knew what to make of the strange man, but based on Arya’s identification, a missive was sent to the Iron Islands to have their son retrieved.

Yara went to Casterly Rock a few moons later to retrieve her brother at her father’s behest. A few moons after that, Yara’s father mysteriously died and Euron declared himself a King.

When Theon stood at Yara’s side in the throne room after Euron’s fall, Tyrion and Arya said he looked much different than how they found him. Sansa had spent a good deal of time with Theon during the Greyjoy’s stay.

The youngest Greyjoy had confessed to betraying Robb and wanting to set right his actions. Sansa shared news from the North; that Rickon lived and was at Winterfell with Jon. That the Night King was making his way south to march on all living. Theon pledged to fight with everything he had when the time came. 

Now as Jaime and Brienne moved into the courtyard, Brienne noted everyone present from the small council and her kin. Each grandfather held one of the boys and Tyrion was telling little Catelyn of the arriving guests.

“Aunt Sansa’s family?” The little girl looked to Tyrion with big blue eyes and wonder in her tone. Brienne glanced at Sansa who stood at Tyrion’s side. A wide smile stretched across Sansa’s face as she looked out at the approaching carriages. Pregnancy suited Sansa and Brienne was pleased to see her so excited for her kin’s arrival. At Sansa’s left side was Arya.

The young wolf had elected to remain in King’s Landing much longer than originally planned. She and Pod had been trained by the best. Brienne, Jaime, Barristan, and Oberyn, all worked with the pair over the past two years. Brienne appraised Arya and was proud of the young woman she had become.

Arya was a ferocious fighter and would serve the living well in the war to come. Where once the council squabbled over which knight should wield Arya’s Valyrian dagger when the time came, now everyone agreed that Arya should fight among their best. Her skill with the blade was incredible and she gave even their best knights a proper showing in the yards.

As the carriage pulled into the yards, Brienne was surprised to see Jon and Tormund on horseback at the rear of the party. The pair quickly dismounted and came to greet those assembled outside. Both men bowed before Brienne and smiled broadly at the sight of the rambunctious triplets.

“You’ve certainly had your hands full, your Grace.” Jon’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he appraised the tots.

With a heavy sigh, Brienne offered a weary smile. “Yes, you can certainly say that.” At the sight of Arya and Sansa, Jon beamed. “Wow! Look at the pair of you!” He made his way down the line to his cousins who embraced him warmly. Even Arya softened at the sight of Jon.

Tormund stepped in front of Jaime and let out a barking laugh. “The lion! Ha! Three at once!” The wildling punched Jaime’s shoulder and sent him stumbling backwards slightly. Brienne bit back at laugh at what she knew to be a warm gesture from Tormund, but in his characteristically aggressive way.

Grimacing slightly, Jaime forced a smile. Brienne could detect the hint of sarcasm in Jaime’s voice when he spoke. “Giantsbane. _Wonderful_ to see you again.” Tormund moved to the tots and ruffled their hair as he asked after their names.

Before Brienne could hear the words being exchanged between Tormund and the pair of doting grandfathers, the carriage door opened. Rickon moved outside quickly and approached her. With an excited bow, he greeted Brienne and Jaime before moving on to his kin.

Then Brienne saw Bran; the boy her husband crippled. Jaime and Brienne had spoken on several occasions of Bran’s survival and return to Winterfell. Jaime had written the boy a series of missives expressing his regret for his actions those many years ago.

Befuddling to Jaime was Bran’s seeming nonchalance over in the incident. Part of Jaime wondered if he preferred to express his anger in person than by raven.

Jaime had been honest with Arya and Sansa about what happened at Winterfell. The sisters were understandably upset and kept their distance from Jaime for some time. Arya considered leaving King’s Landing altogether, but a missive from Bran put an end to all that. They never shared the contents of the letter from Bran, but both young women warmed to Jaime over time.

The attendants helped move Bran’s wheelchair from the carriage and Brienne heard Jaime suck in a sharp breath at her side. As Bran was moved before them, Brienne smiled warmly as their eyes met.

“Lord Bran. I’m pleased to see you looking well.”

The young man raised a brow and smiled slightly. “You Grace. Ser Barristan had the right of it. You have Arianna’s eyes… and Ser Duncan’s height.” The words caught Brienne off-guard and she quirked a brow at the boy. Before she could reply, Bran smiled more warmly. “We have much to discuss, but I would say that you and Ser Jaime have more than kept your word to my mother.”

Looking to Jaime, Bran’s lips stretched into a wide smile. As Brienne glanced to her husband, she could see Jaime pale slightly and stammer a greeting to the young man. Bran spoke in a teasing lilt as he tilted his head up to meet Jaime’s eyes. “Ser Jaime. You look different than when I last saw you.”

A nervous chuckle pushed past Jaime’s lips as he raised his maimed arm. “Yes. I suppose you can say that I more than deserve this.”

“No. I meant that you’re properly attired now. Good to see you again.”

As Bran was wheeled past Jaime, Brienne looked to her husband curiously. For his part, Jaime looked as though the Stranger himself had walked by. His jaw went slack and his eyes wide.

Once the contingent was greeted and welcome inside, Bran sought a private audience with the small council, queen, and prince consort. As everyone entered the room, Bran’s ominous voice filled the space.

“The Night King is moving his army south of the wall now. We sent ravens to the Northern holdings before passing White Harbor, indicating that they should begin evacuating as planned. The dead will be at the Neck in just under three moons time. Their progress is slower than the living.”

Brienne felt her mouth drop at the information. As she glanced around the table, her expression was mirrored by the rest of the council.

Looking to Bran, Brienne questioned his words. “How do you know this? Will the Wall not hold them back?”

“The Night King has been held North by my predecessors. A magic bond that could only be broken by the three-eyed raven moving south of the Wall. My predecessors could not walk; only fly. The three-eyed raven is what the Night King seeks. That is why my body was needed. I had to become the three-eyed raven and move south for what is to come.”

Bran rolled back his sleeve to reveal the Night King’s marking on his forearm. “He marked me and is able to monitor my movements as much as I monitor his.”

From Brienne’s side, Jaime spoke cautiously. “I mean… I hate to state the obvious here, but why couldn’t we just put you on an island somewhere? I mean, they can’t swim, can they?”

Despite the groans from several members of the council, Bran smirked. “You could try, but he would still get to me after killing all of you in the process. Perhaps you recall House Stark’s motto? Winter is Coming. The Night King’s path will see the seas frozen over. That is how they are moving around the Wall as we speak.”

“Freezing the seas!?” Tyrion gaped at Bran as though he declared the sky purple.

“Yes. Mayhap you’ve noticed the shift in weather. I can assure you that it will only get colder. Much colder.”

Nothing was making sense to Brienne. She looked to Bran in confusion. “Why is he coming for you? Why now?”

“He has always sought out the three-eyed raven, but he could never kill my predecessors. If he can kill me, humanity will fall. The Children of the Forest protected my predecessor’s location with magic, but now is our time to defeat him. All the pieces are finally in place to do so. The red comet brought dragons back. Three dragons for the three Targaryens who will help win this war. The dragon must have three heads. The Prince Who Was Promised will see it done.”

Jaime muttered at Brienne’s side for her ears only. “What the fuck does that all mean?”

“You’ll understand soon enough, Ser Jaime.” Bran’s voice cut through the heavy silence in the room.

Brienne shared an uneasy look with Jaime as they both were taken aback at Bran’s uncanny hearing. With heavy sigh, Brienne looked to Oberyn.

“How are we doing with military preparations?”

Oberyn shrugged and met her eyes. “As good as we’re going to it seems. We have ample dragonglass weapons for the armies and the wildfire production at the Twins has produced the agreed upon amount. With your word, we will call the banners and have everyone make their way towards the Neck.”

Jaime snorted at Brienne’s side. “Although there goes that advantage we hoped for with the narrow passageway. With the Night King simply freezing every body of water in his path, the dead won’t slow as much as we hoped.”

The Viper looked equally dismayed at the news of the Night King’s capability where it concerned their military objective. They had chosen the Neck as a land advantage. The dead would not be able to leverage their numbers in an attack as they would be held to the narrow passageways through the area.

Brienne offered a conciliatory shrug before responding to Oberyn. “It still confines them better than an open field attack further north or south. It still affords us the opportunity to retreat south if we fail in our first attempt to destroy them. We should call the banners now.” 

“It must be there.” Bran’s voice echoed off the walls. “From everything I have seen in the past, your plan aligns to how we are most apt to defeat them.”

“But… we haven’t told you the plan yet.” Oberyn’s voice betrayed his confusion as all eyes turned to Bran.

“You needn’t waste time retelling what I’ve been listening to. You should send those ravens now. Someone will also need to write the Citadel. Samwell Tarly is needed here.”

Bran then turned to Daenerys. “An old friend is coming to visit you soon. He first went to Dragonstone but was informed you were in the capital as a member of the small council. Stay by him when death comes for us all. He will keep you both safe.”

_Both?_


	3. Learning From the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Bran talk. Some discoveries are made.

When the small council adjourned, Bran asked Jaime to give him a hand in getting to his room.

_So, this is to be my atonement. Hand japes from the boy I crippled._

Jaime wheeled Bran down the hallway to the guest chambers that the young Stark had been assigned. Bran unnerved Jaime. The boy’s vacant stares and ominous tone caused a feeling of dread to pool in Jaime’s gut. As Jaime moved Bran into the modest room, he looked around before turning to Bran.

“Do you need anything? A fire? Some food or drink?”

Bran’s lips pressed into a thin line as he contemplated the question. Looking back to Jaime, Bran shook his head. “I don’t have much need for things these days. Thank you though.”

Jaime turned to leave but took pause before moving towards the door. Glancing back at the young man in the wheelchair, Jaime grimaced slightly. “I meant what I wrote. Well, in truth, I don’t know how much of my shit handwriting you could decipher. I am sorry for what I did.”

“And I meant what I wrote. It was necessary. You might not see it now, but you will. Our destinies have been woven together as tightly as your fate with Brienne.”

Jaime smiled teasingly. “Come now Lord Bran, I don’t like you _that_ much.”

With a returning smile, Bran replied in equal measure. “No, I should hope not. You would not find such an interest returned, so its best we don’t share any baths.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head, initially failing to realize the significance of the words. As it sunk in, Jaime’s brows furrowed. “How do you… is this that vision thing you can do? I hope you haven’t been spying on my other activities with the queen.”

“Why? Worried I may find you lacking?”

_Wow. I am really paying for that errant push._

A small smirk tugged at Bran’s lips. “Rest assured that I have as much desire to see certain activities, as you have desire to be _that_ man again. The man who died when the red comet came.”

_Gods. More riddles. What does that even mean._

“Right, well I imagine you’re as likely to tell me what that means, as much as you are apt to tell me what all the other drivel means.”

Bran shook his head and looked out the window of the room. “No, it will hardly be necessary to tell you. You will see soon enough. Do you know why death comes for me?”

“That thing on your wrist? It’s some type of tracking you said?” Jaime’s brows furrowed as he studied Bran’s face. As usual, the boy’s features were devoid of emotion. Bran gave away nothing, while simultaneously speaking of everything.

Bran glanced up at Jaime. Their eyes met and the young man tilted his head slightly. “That is how he finds me, but not why he seeks me. He came for all my predecessors for the same reason. The Night King was created by the Children of the Forest to protect them from the First Men.”

Jaime watched as the young man’s eyes grew hazy. Bran’s voice held its vacant lilt. “Mankind was threatening their existence and growing more powerful. We attain power through our ability to remember. It is how we grow and become stronger. I imagine you would not repeat your mistakes, because you remember the consequences of those actions, correct?”

Jaime snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

A wide smile spread across Bran’s face. “You are one man. I hold the memories of all mankind. If the Night King wants to destroy us, I would be a good place to start.”

_Well finally something he says makes sense._

Nodding in understanding, Jaime listened as Bran continued. “It is why you shouldn’t regret the past, but rather learn from it. You wouldn’t do it again, but you had to then. We both needed you to. I needed to become the three-eyed raven. You needed to become the man you are now.”

“Well it seems we have our objective. Keep you safe and defeat the Night King.” Jaime shrugged as though the answer was simple enough, but Bran’s returning expression told him it was anything but.

A momentary silence descended over them before Jaime turned to leave. Bran’s voice halted Jaime’s progress towards the door. “How much do you know of the Tarth triplets?”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion and his jaw fell open slightly. “You mean the Lannister triplets? I hope quite a lot. If you can believe it, I was even present when they were conceived.”

For the first time since he arrived, Bran displayed a human emotion. He rolled his eyes in thinly veiled annoyance. “I’m very glad for you. I do however mean the Tarth triplets from your goodfather’s line. I take it you’ve heard the tale.”

“Ah yes. Her Grace was ever so pleased to have repeated that bit of history.” Jaime’s tone dripped with sarcasm as he met Bran’s eyes. Something flashed across the young lord’s face that left Jaime feeling there was far more to the matter than Jaime understood.

“You’ve been training your father to fight with his left.”

At Bran’s abrupt change in topic, Jaime grew more perplexed. Tywin had led men into battles, but it had been many years since he had to wield a sword. Nonetheless, his father insisted. He wanted to be ‘good enough’ as Jaime had once said. Knowing the dead marched for them all, Tywin meant to defend his family to his last breath.

“I have. For what little combat he is likely to see. He won’t be on the front lines.”

Bran nodded in understanding before responding. “You should remember what I said about history and the importance of learning from it. There was a reason Aegon the Conqueror and one of his sister-wives arranged for betrothals of the Tarth triplets. Of course, the babes were both Tarth and Targaryen. It was a way for the Targaryen conquerors to gain control of the other powerful Houses and further their line. The Houses selected were not liege lords, but rather the most influential vassals within their respective kingdoms. The Tarth triplets were warrior women like your wife. They were to act as spies for the Targaryen rulers. They would report back if their kingdom’s liege lords gave even a hint of treason. The girls were betrothed to Houses Corbray of the Vale, Hightower of the Reach, and Harlaw of the Iron Islands.”

Jaime’s attention was firmly locked on Bran. The young man’s eyes grew distant as he seemed to consider something. “Very important matches indeed. Powerful, wealthy families. Did you know that each family boasted Valyrian steel swords? The Harlaw’s never rightfully owned theirs of course. They plundered it and later lost it. Brightroar was the Valryian steel they stole. Your family’s ancestral sword. Damn pirates.”

Bran smirked at his own words before continuing. “Today, the Valyrian blades of House Corbray and House Hightower lay hidden and unclaimed in Westeros. Your sons will wield them should the living prevail. The men they are named for must first wield them in the fight to come. Your daughter will wield Ice should we prevail. It is strongest when together. That is why only you and her Grace can wield it when divided. The true two halves of a whole; Widow’s Wail and Oathkeeper.”

House Corbray and House Hightower were familiar enough to Jaime, but he was not aware that they had Valyrian Steel. “What do you mean hidden and unclaimed?”

Bran smiled at him. “House Corbray no longer has need of their Valyrian steel. Their line ended on the battlefield as they fought for the liege lord, Petyr Baelish. Your wife did the honors. She killed the last Corbray. Their ancestral sword, named Lady Forlorn, is at Heart’s Home; the family’s seat.”

Bran met Jaime’s eyes before continuing. “I will tell you where and as Liege Lady of the Crownlands acting on behalf of the crown, Lady Daenerys will have right to claim it for your House. Selwyn will wield it in honor of little Selwyn.”

With a small smile, Bran continued. “House Hightower had a Valyrian steel sword named Vigilance. Lord Ormund Hightower wielded it in battle and was killed at Tumbleton. Drangonfire burned the city to ash. Despite efforts of the ruling family to restore the town, it would never be as grand. The sword is there, buried below the ash that sits under the dragon skull of Seasmoke. As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, your wife will reclaim it for your House. Tywin will wield it in honor of little Tywin.”

A teasing smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. “That’s very specific of you, Lord Bran. What if the grandfathers want to switch blades? I hardly intend to get in their way. They’re both bigger than me; particularly my goodfather.”

Bran’s lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke. “Hightower is the tallest structure in the Seven Kingdoms. Taller than the Wall. It is used in the West to guide ships to port. Do you recall the words of House Hightower?”

Jaime remembered it. His father forced him to study all the most powerful houses. It was how he so quickly identified Brienne’s House when she marched him through the Riverlands so many years ago. Jaime raised a challenging brow at Bran. “We light the way.” 

Bran nodded at Jaime’s words. “Your goodfather represents the East. The first light that Westeros sees each day, touches Tarth’s shores. You father represents the West. The last of the sun’s rays descend in the West. While House Hightower is in the Reach, they are the light in the West. Both of your fathers have a role to play in the war to come. You followed the east out of darkness. You must follow the west to find your way home.”

Jaime was learning quickly not to argue with the young Stark. He offered a conciliatory nod and sighed. “Anything else that you wish to overwhelm me with today?”

A small smirk played at Bran’s lips. “No. You’ve proven quite _hand_ y today. Thank you, Ser Jaime.”

_It is going to be a long night indeed._

“Delightful. Well then, I’m off to keep the Lannister triplets in order. I imagine they’re far more troublesome than the Tarth triplets were.”

“You have no idea. That pesky Lannister line seems to have infused a degree of insolence into everything, hasn’t it?”

At Bran’s words, Jaime guffawed and grabbed the door handle. “Rest well Lord Bran. I apologize if those insolent Lannister triplets bother you doing your stay. They can be rather pushy.”

With a wink as he shut the door, Jaime whistled down the hallway and heard a barely audible “Challenge accepted, Prince Consort” from the other side of the door.

That night, Jaime shared with Brienne his strange conversation with Bran. Desperate as she was to find any truth to the young man’s words, Brienne promised to ride out to Tumbleton on the morrow. She would ask Daenerys to search Heart’s Home as well.

Jaime didn’t expect much to come of the investigation. _Likely a way for the young Stark to deprive me of a day with my wife._

When Brienne returned the next day covered in ash and holding Vigilance, Jaime’s eyes went wide. _No fucking way._

They placed the sword on the table of their room and stared at it for some time. Neither made a sound, but the silence was deafening. It wasn’t until a knock came at the door that Brienne broke the quiet. “Enter.”

Jaime and Brienne turned towards the door and a weary looking Daenerys marched in. “You have no idea how long this took me to find. I’m never taking directions from this one again.” Daenerys pointed an accusing finger at Jaime who feigned innocence.

“What?”

With a raised brow, Daenerys eyed him suspiciously. “Do you know your left from your right?”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “It was easier when I had two hands to remind me. Tyrion taught me this little trick.” With his flesh hand, Jaime formed an ‘L’ shape with his thumb and index finger and placed it on his forehead.

“Now is it when the ‘L’ faces me or you that it’s the left? I can never remember that part.”

“Oh Gods.” Brienne groaned at his side.

Fortunately, Daenerys was too tired to start her usual banter with Jaime. She handed the Valyrian steel sword to Brienne with a smile. “Cousin. Your husband may be one of the most skilled military minds we have, but how he has managed to give directions to his men without getting anyone killed is beyond me.” In a teasing tone, Daenerys looked to Jaime and spoke in a deep voice. "Oh yes, lads. Just take that left to avoid the cliff."

Jaime scoffed. “Well that is precisely what I have your husband for. He reminds me of the ‘left’ and the ‘right’. See, I knew there was a reason I lost to that young wolf at the Battle of the Whispering Wood. I said go left. I think I meant right.” Jaime feigned realization as he looked to Brienne.

Brienne chuckled at his side. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m very good looking though. An excellent decorative piece indeed. Much better looking than any of those redheads occupying the castle tonight.”

Daenerys groaned and rolled her eyes. “If that is all, your Grace. I’m going to take supper with my husband. Good luck with yours.” The women exchanged a warm look as Daenerys moved to leave. They had become quite close over the past two years, and Jaime was genuinely happy to see his friend so taken with the young Targaryen. It also made for more enjoyable dinners with Daenerys as Jaime had Addam to banter with.

Brienne placed the second Valyrian steel blade on the table. The couple again looked to the table and appraised the weapons. Jaime cocked his head to the side and considered something. Speaking more to himself than Brienne, he muttered aloud.

“I wonder if this raven boy can find Brightroar. He said House Harlaw took it.”

“What? What is Brightroar?” Brienne’s tone was inquisitive as she studied Jaime’s face.

“My House had a Varlyian steel sword once. My father sent my Uncle Gerion off to find it. He never returned to Westeros.”

Brienne hummed at Jaime’s side. “Well, I suppose we should send for our fathers. They’ll need to practice with these. Are you certain that your father is ready for this?”

Jaime shrugged. “He has had two years of practice. I think this is as good as it gets. I still prefer to see him at command in the rear lines. He was always more of a commander than a fighter.”

“Yes, we’ll keep my father with him. They’ll keep one another safe.”

Jaime snorted and cocked a brow at her. “You mean that your father will kill anything within a ten-foot radius of my father." Looking back to the table, Jaime sighed. "It’s best to keep them both at the rear though. Your father’s knees have gotten worse. He is likely to move as fast as one of those dead things.”

Brienne nodded in agreement. “He won’t care for such orders. My father still fancies himself in his prime. I imagine he expects to be at the front lines.”

Picking up his cup of wine, Jaime raised it to Brienne. “To protecting the old men. They’re pissing and moaning is likely to be heard at the front lines as though they were there.”

When both of their fathers later arrived at the room, Jaime took a deep breath and prepared for the chaos to begin. Tywin and Selwyn had formed a most unexpected bond. They were attached at the hip when in the capital. Both had their nightly brandy in hand and were already in rare form.

“Where are our grandbabes?” Selwyn looked around the unusually quiet room and seemed surprised to find only Brienne and Jaime there.

“They’re with Sansa and Tyrion. I believe their uncle offered to reenact the battle for Casterly Rock tonight.” Brienne smiled widely as she watched the grandfathers’ chests swell with pride.

“Ha! Yes, yes! Good lad. I hope he remembers to tell of Grandfather Sel’s most impressive handling of one Red Ronnet.” Selwyn clapped Tywin’s back as he took a long sip of his brandy.

Jaime poured himself more wine as he offered Brienne a cup. He was pleasantly surprised to see her accept without reminding him that ‘one cup’ was sufficient. “You know how Tyrion likes to overdramatize. I’m certain by this point in the tale, you’ve snapped the shit in half with one hand.”

“So, what do you need us for? Do you two require a bedtime story?” Tywin’s tone was halfway between teasing and sarcastic.

With a raised brow, Jaime told the two men of Bran’s tale regarding the Tarth Triplets and the Houses they were betrothed to. Of course, Selwyn knew it all and nodded emphatically. When Jaime reached the part of the Valyrian steel swords and the boys’ destiny to wield them according to Bran, the men’s ears perked up.

Moving to the table, Jaime pulled back the cloth that he and Brienne had been using to clean the swords. “Here you have Lady Forlorn and Vigilance. Lord Selwyn, you are to fight the dead wielding Lady Forlorn in honor of your namesake. Father, you are to fight the dead wielding Vigilance in honor of your namesake.”

Both men’s eyes went wide and they surged towards the table. Like children being given their first tourney swords, they picked them up and inspected them closely.

Selwyn was the first to break the reverent silence. “Yes! That is what I’m talking about! I knew I loved this boy of yours Ty! Good lad, Jaime! Ha! I will take down the entire fucking army of dead shits in no time.”

Swinging the sword dramatically around the room, Jaime and Brienne stepped back quickly. “Gods, father! Not in here! You’ll take off someone’s head.”

“Ah nonsense, girl! You’ve gone all soft in motherhood. Scars are good for the soul!”

Brienne scoffed as she watched Selwyn slash around the room. “A beheading is not a scar! I prefer my head atop my shoulders.”

“Please. Your wonderful husband here lost a fucking hand and treated it like a scratch! Fought off a fucking bear days later! Builds character.”

Jaime guffawed and smiled widely at Brienne. “A bear, Brienne. I beat it to the dirt, remember? Just a scratch.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. Looking to his father, Jaime saw the older man's awe turn to worry. “This is wasted on me. It should go to a proper fighter. I’ll take a dragonglass blade as planned.”

Something in Tywin’s tone concerned Jaime. Jaime always knew his father to be a fighter in spirit if not in name. He never had doubts and declared the outcome before the battle commenced.

“We’ll train together, father. We have time. You’re more than adequate with the left now.”

Shaking his head, Tywin sighed. “Addam or Barristan or someone worthy should wield this. It is most impressive though. I give you that.”

Before Jaime could reply, Selwyn barked at Tywin. “None of that now! You’ll wield that and your namesake after you will wield it! Little Ty will proudly tell tales of how his grandfather felled wights and White Walkers with that blade! We’ll practice together on the morrow. Listen to your boy. He has the right of it.”

Tywin glanced to Jaime; a raw trepidation lined his face. Moving forward, Jaime placed a hand on his father’s shoulder and spoke confidently.

“You are worthy to wield it and you will. Bran said it must be this way and you can’t argue with anyone who calls themselves the three-eyed raven.” 

Looking more assured at Jaime’s words, Tywin nodded. “On the morrow. We’ll train.”

When the atmosphere again became more optimistic, the grandfathers returned to admiring the swords and speaking of the grandbabes. They left for the night with their swords in their hands. Jaime didn’t have the heart to tell them that they would be at the rear of the lines. They both were determined to fight at the front in defense of their children and grandchildren.

Stepping out onto the balcony, Jaime looked out at the city. The weather was cooling as Bran had stated it would. A restful silence fell over the city below and Jaime worried over his father’s shaken confidence.

_I need him to survive this._

“What’s wrong?” Brienne was at Jaime's side and studying his face before he realized her presence.

“My father has never lacked confidence in anything. He seemed…” Jaime struggled to find the right word to describe his father’s demeanor earlier.

“Unsettled.” Brienne completed Jaime’s thought. The fear he felt pooling in his gut was reflected in her words.

Jaime frowned slightly. “I asked him before to stay behind at the Keep. To stay with Genna and the children. He won’t. He insists on fighting. It is as though he wants to fight but is resigned to his death.”

Brienne’s hand came to rest at Jaime’s arm. “Jaime. We can force him to stay behind if you’re worried.”

Shaking his head, Jaime sighed. “No. He wants to fight. I won’t take that from him. I wouldn’t appreciate being left behind either. Well, I was left behind once. That didn’t exactly end well.” Jaime’s tone dripped with sarcasm as memories of Aerys filled his mind.

“Stop it, Jaime! You saved this city. Were it not for you, none of this would be here today. Bran didn’t say where your father needed to be. Just that he needed the sword. Maybe we can convince your father to be here. We can tell him that he must guard his grandbabes.”

When Jaime didn’t answer, Brienne grabbed his face with her hands. Staring into his eyes, Brienne spoke resolutely. “Tell me and I’ll give the order. Do you want him here?”

Jaime wanted to say yes, but he couldn’t. “No. They’ll be fine. Like you said, they’ll look out for one another. I’ll train my father harder than before.”

Brienne’s arms circled Jaime’s shoulders and her hand ran through his hair. Jaime sighed and pulled her closer while silently adding yet another name to his long list of people to keep safe.

_Father._

Jaime’s list of people he could not fail was becoming too long to name. It made Arya’s silly list that Tywin spent the last two year’s helping her complete look like a warm-up drill.

_How can I keep them all alive?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two valyrian steel swords are legit. I made up the part of about Brightroar being stolen by Iron Islanders though. Who knows where that sword went.


	4. The Fight Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys' guest arrives at King's Landing. All attendees arrive for the summit.

Brienne was awoken by a trail of light kisses down her jaw and a needy cock pressed against her core. She chuckled softly as her eyes fluttered open, blinking back the vestiges of sleep.

Muttering as much to herself as Jaime, Brienne’s head flopped to the side and her eyes searched the sky for an indication of time. “Again?”

Jaime scoffed as he continued kissing his way to Brienne’s neck. “Again? It’s a new day. I like to begin and end my day with the most important of my duties.”

Before Brienne could retort, Jaime’s mouth was on hers. It was as much a constant in their lives as the sun rising and setting. Even on their most chaotic days, they found time for one another. The only need as pressing, was the need for moon tea.

They had agreed to wait until after the battle with the dead for Brienne to stop taking moon tea. An added benefit to that decision was the time it afforded them to continue adjusting to life with three wild tots. Even two years in, every day posed a new challenge.

Raising her leg over Jaime’s hip, Brienne felt him ease into her. A satisfied exhale pushed past Jaime’s lips as he sheathed himself in her. Brienne still marveled at how her body was able inspire such desires and reactions from Jaime.

All her life, Brienne had been told how undesirable, mannish, and ugly she was. For over two years, she had been married to the most handsome man in Westeros who was seemingly unable to get enough of her.

Hooking her leg tighter around Jaime, Brienne flipped them over so that she was astride him. A wide smile spread across Jaime’s face as Brienne looked down at him. With two palms to his chest, Brienne began to ride him slowly.

For moons after the triplets were born, Brienne hated Jaime’s roaming eyes. She had never felt so out of shape and her body was sluggish to recover. A year after the triplets’ birth, Brienne felt and looked like the long, muscular woman she had recognized in the mirror for her entire life. With Brienne’s renewed confidence, Jaime was the benefactor. He had missed this position in that first year.

Jaime groaned contentedly as Brienne clenched her walls around his cock with her ever movement. The sensation of his fingers at her sensitive nub sent a shiver down her spine.

With his hand and stump wandering up her sides and to her breasts, Jaime began impatiently thrusting his hips up to meet Brienne’s rhythmic motion. A slight chuckle pushed past Brienne’s lips at his eagerness. The sound of little voices drifting down the hallway halted their movements.

Jaime pouted and covered his eyes with his maimed arm. “Oh no. Why do they always find us?”

“We should change rooms and not tell anyone.” Brienne’s reply was equal parts jest and sincerity. Looking back to Jaime, they nodded in join understanding and picked up the pace of their lovemaking.

The light rap of knuckles against the door alerted them of Addam’s hold on the children. Their could hear his muffled voice through the thick wooden door. “I think your mother and father are finishing a morning meeting. Hold on a moment little ones.”

Jaime spoke through gritted teeth as Brienne moved faster atop him. “Fuck. We owe him again.”

“Shhh. Concentrate.” Brienne reprimanded Jaime and arched her back. The new angle elicited a loud groan from Jaime.

“Oh Gods! Fuck!” Jaime’s voice was strained and heavy with pleasure. At the change in angle, Brienne felt her own pleasure building rapidly. The feeling of Jaime’s hand teasing her nipple pushed her over the edge quickly.

As her walls tightened and shook around Jaime’s cock, his own release saw his seed spill deep inside her. Brienne flopped down on top of Jaime and mock sobbed at the need to leave the bed so quickly after their coupling.

“How much longer do you think Addam can hold them off?”

Jaime held her close and tried to catch his breath. His breathing tickled her ear and his deep voice sent another wave of desire to her core. “Not long enough.”

When Brienne felt Jaime’s mouth move to her jaw, she knew she had to get up or the triples would catch them in a most awkward position.

Moving quickly from the bed, Jaime whimpered at the loss of contact from their broken union. Brienne quickly cleaned herself and put on a sleeping gown. Looking back at Jaime, she gestured wildly at him to cover himself.

“I don’t want to. Tell them to go away. Their grandfathers are here for them torment.” Jaime whined and remained unmoving. His half hard cock hanging boldly for anyone walking in to see.

It took one glare from Brienne for Jaime to move quickly from the bed. When he had on his smallclothes and breeches, Brienne moved to the door and opened it. Three very lively and eager tots ran past her, as an amused looking Addam stood guard with Ser Boros.

“Your Grace. Good morning.”

“Ser Addam. _Thank you_.”

Addam offered a knowing smile and chuckled as Brienne shut the door.

The triplets were trying desperately to climb onto the bed. Only Selwyn was able to get up unaided and Jaime was quick to throw the other two high into the air and onto the mound of disheveled silks.

“Now, raise your hand if you’re going to be well behaved today.” Jaime looked to the three grinning tots and chuckled as only Tywin and Catelyn raised their hands. Selwyn smiled impishly and laughed when Jaime attacked him with tickles.

_Gods. That child._

Jaime continued to wrestle with the children in their usual manner. He played the part of a massive bear trying to maul them all and the children played the part of the brave knights trapped in a pit. They squealed with delight as Jaime flung them all around and chased them across the bed.

A knock at the door caught Brienne’s attention. Moving to answer it, she was surprised to find Varys on the other side. The Spider bowed before raising his eyes to meet hers. “Your Grace, apologies to disturb you so early. A single rider has approached the city and seeks council with you and your cousin. It seems that Lady Daenerys’ special _guest_ has arrived.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Brienne smiled at the man. Thank you, Lord Varys. We’ll meet him in the throne room shortly.”

Before Brienne could close the door, little Tywin came bounding over to the door. The young tot enjoyed Varys as much as he enjoyed the political intrigue that Tyrion so often discussed. Pointing up at the man, Tywin smiled. “Lor’ Varys. You come play?”

Varys smiled warmly at the young boy and leaned down. “How about later, little Tywin? I can bring you a book that has all the known dragons from your family’s history?”

The young boy clapped excitedly and nodded. “Momma! Lor’ Varys bring me!”

“Yes, that sounds quite nice. What do you say?”

The young boy nodded eagerly at Varys. “Thank you, Lor’ Varys.”

The Spider ruffled the young boy’s hair and bowed to Brienne before retreating down the hallway. The laughter of his siblings brought little Tywin’s attention back to his father. Running back over, he squealed and jumped into Jaime’s awaiting arms.

Brienne smiled at the sight of her little family. Walking to Jaime, she informed him of the guest at the keep. “I’ll need to head down. Will you watch the children, or will you bring them to one of the grandfathers?”

Jaime snorted. “You say that as though our fathers aren’t likely breaking their fast together already. I’ll watch them. Are you coming back here before the summit begins?”

“Yes, although everyone might come to collect the children before I get back here. Sansa, Arya, and my father are going to watch the children since your father needs to represent the West at the summit.”

“All three!? Seems a bit drastic.”

“Arya wants to train little Selwyn. She thinks he needs to learn to howl; not just roar. Sansa wants to spend time with little Catelyn and show her to use a needle that isn’t a sword. My father will take little Tywin. That should be _interesting_.”

Jaime snorted. “I fear what the little wolf will teach Selwyn. Seems like too much trouble in one place.”

Brienne hummed in agreement but offered mollifying words. “Pod will be there.” Moving to her chest of clothing, Brienne quickly changed into appropriate attire for the day.

Once ready, Brienne walked to the foot of the bed and extended her arms as the children barreled into her. “Now behave yourselves today or no more bear games.”

Shrieks of refute and promises to be behave filled the room. With an approving nod, Brienne gave them all a kiss on the head as she turned to leave.

Brienne collected Daenerys along the way. As they made their way into the throne room with Ser Addam and Ser Boros at their back, Daenerys’ steps faltered when she laid eyes on the man before them.

In a weathered looking, black cloak with greying, blonde hair, a weary looking man bowed as his eyes landed on them. “Your Grace. Khaleesi.”

Brienne looked to Daenarys and watched as her cousin’s hand flew to her gaping mouth. Tears filled Daenerys’ eyes and she gasped at the sight. With a warm hand to her shoulder, Brienne leaned in. “Go to him. I’ll be over in a moment. He seems important to you.”

With an appreciative nod, Daenerys ran towards the man in question and threw her arms around him.

“Who the fuck is that?” Addam muttered at Brienne’s side. A look that Brienne recognized all too well flashed across Addam’s features. Jealousy.

“Gods, Addam. You’re no better than Jaime. Stop it.” Brienne teased Jaime’s childhood friend and rolled her eyes. She waited patiently before the hushed conversation concluded between the pair before her. When Daenerys looked back and extended her hand towards Brienne, Brienne knew that was her signal to step forward.

“Cousin, this is Ser Jorah Mormont. My most trusted friend and advisor. Ser Jorah, her Grace. Queen Brienne Lannister of Tarth.”

The aged knight stepped forward and bowed. “Your Grace. Thank you for meeting with me.”

Brienne smiled at the man who her cousin considered a friend. “Ser Jorah. A friend of my cousin is a friend of the crown.”

At her words, the man’s face fell. “I would be honest with you, your Grace. I brought shame to my House and was living in exile across the Narrow Sea. I sold poachers to slave traders as a means to fund my wife’s insatiable wants for finery and goods. I fled Westeros at word of Lord Stark’s death sentence. I know that I do not deserve to return here, but I’ve heard what is going on. I would ask only to serve against the dead. To protect Lady Daenerys. To fight for the realm. Then I will leave.”

Brienne looked between Daenerys and Jorah. She could see her cousin’s face fall at the words. With a small smile, Brienne met his eyes. “You’ve protected my cousin before I take it?”

Before Jorah could reply, Daenerys spoke confidently. “He saved my life. I can never repay him for what he has done for me.”

A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s face as she met Jorah’s eyes. “I imagine you made some errant judgement out of love for your wife?”

Jorah nodded solemnly. “Yes, your Grace. It shames me. I can never atone for it.”

“I should hope that is not the case. My husband has done unworthy things for love, but he has also done incredible things for love and honor. When you left Westeros, you likely had a very specific view of my husband just as we all did. Jaime Lannister. I imagine you still think many horrible things about him. Ask my cousin what she thinks of the man who slew her father.”

With furrowed brows, Jorah looked to Khaleesi. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Loathe as I am to admit it, he is… unfortunately wonderful. It seems everyone here misjudged his intent that day, but Ser Jaime’s action were confirmed as true and honest. He saved the city from wildfire.”

At the news, Jorah’s eyes went wide. “What? I beg your pardon your Grace, but… he slew Aerys when his father laid siege at the gates.”

Shaking her head, Daenerys met his eyes. “That is not the truth of it. Far too many sources have confirmed that reasoning false, including a most unnerving greenseer. Ser Jaime saved everyone and was reviled for it.”

Brienne watched as Jorah’s eyes reflected the shock he felt. Moving to make her point, Brienne locked eyes with the aged knight. “That isn’t to say he isn’t without his crimes. He has done some terrible things, but he has also done many incredible things. If I judge you harshly, then I am a hypocrite. You saved my cousin as my husband saved me. You’ve offered to fight for us as my husband does. If I asked you to leave Westeros after, why would I have the right to allow my husband here? You’re welcome to return home if that is what you desire.”

A wet sheen coated Jorah’s eyes as Daenerys squeezed his arm warmly. From behind Brienne’s back, Addam coughed dramatically and glanced to the ceiling.

With a small laugh, Daenerys extended her arm to Addam. “Oh, Ser Jorah. This is my husband. Ser Addam Marbrand.”

Addam feigned surprised at the introduction. “Oh! Hello, Ser Jorah. Lovely to make your acquaintance.” Brienne bit back a laugh that threatened to escape.

_What is it with the men of the West. So insecure. So needy._

Ser Jorah looked slightly confused at the introduction. “You’re… a Queensguard? And you’re married?”

Brienne smiled tightly and met his eyes. “You’ve been away a long time Ser Jorah. Much has changed. Come, lets get you something to eat and drink. We have a summit beginning soon, but mayhap you would enjoy having some time to catch up with Lady Daenerys.”

As they made their way towards the hall, Jaime approached from the other direction. “Brienne! You’ll never believe it. I pawned off the children already. We have time for a spar before the summit!”

Jaime had the expression of a newly knighted soldier plastered across his face. Inclining her head towards Jorah, Brienne indicated that Jaime should see who the mystery guest was. Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight. “Jorah Mormont!? They’ve been trying to find and kill you for years.”

Brienne elbowed Jaime hard in the side. “Shush. He helped Daenerys across the Narrow Sea.”

As Jaime’s eyes landed on Jorah, the older knight smiled through pursed lips. “Ser Jaime.”

“Ser Jorah. I had not thought to see you on these shores ever again.” Jaime’s brow was raised as he looked over his shoulder and walked beside Brienne.

Jorah chuckled lightly and glanced to Daenerys. “Nor had I. You have a most compassionate wife.”

“That she is. Some go to an extreme and call her my better half.” Jaime teased at Brienne’s side and earned another swift elbow.

When they arrived at the hall, Brienne spoke to the staff about bringing Jorah a hot meal. The aged knight and Daenerys took seats at the table and fell into a deep conversation. At her back, Addam and Jaime spoke in hushed tones. It was clear from the set of Addam’s shoulders that he was keen to understand how Jorah came to know his wife.

Stopping one of the attendants, Brienne instructed them to bring food and drink for both Daenerys and Addam too. Addam’s eyes went wide. “I’m on duty, your Grace.”

Brienne scoffed. “Honestly Addam.” Offering a knowing smile, she spoke in hushed tones. “I do believe we owe you a debt from this morning. We always pay our debts, don’t we Jaime?”

Jaime chuckled and clapped Addam’s shoulder. “Now we’re even. I think I can handle guarding my wife with Ser Boros here. I also think she could kill us all if she felt like it.”

Moving towards the table, Brienne excused herself and left Addam to sit with the pair. Brienne and Jaime made their way to the yards and enjoyed some light sparring before the summit was to begin. They sparred for some time before breaking for water. As they rehydrated and walked towards the gardens, they looked to the distance and saw a familiar figure by the water’s edge.

Tywin stood with his sword raised as Ser Barristan corrected his grip. Bronn stood opposite Tywin looking crass as ever. The sellsword had taken on Pod’s former role as Tyrion’s attendant of sorts.

He was uncouth and it appeared the appointment was born more out of friendship with Tyrion than qualification. When he wasn’t aiding Tyrion, Bronn would often spar with Jaime or other knights to keep his skills sharp.

Standing back and well at a distance, Brienne and Jaime watched Tywin consider the instruction and move against Bronn. Brienne groaned inwardly at the match.

_His fighting betrays his age, and he still moves as a man who had lost his dominant hand._

Brienne felt fear pool in her gut. When Jaime lost his sword hand, he had age, stamina, and strength on his side. He was a natural talent with the sword and adapted well. Barristan commented that Jaime now fought as though he was born lefthanded.

Brienne imagined that Tywin was little more than average fighter even with his dominant hand. As Jaime noted, Tywin struck her as more of a commander than fighter.

Tywin was disarmed several times, but he kept picking up his blade and trying again. Like Jaime, Tywin was stubborn and determined. It was evident that his body was aching and fatigued; hardly accustomed to this level of activity.

At her side, Brienne observed Jaime’s jaw clench. A deep sorrow played at his features.

 _This won’t do. Tywin can’t fight in this war_. _I’ll need to speak with him in private. I will ask him to guard the grandbabes with the Queensguard we leave behind._

With a deep sigh, Brienne looked to Jaime and shook her head. “He has to stay at the Keep, Jaime.”

“He just needs a little more time.”

Brienne turned to face Jaime fully. Her head tilted as though he had gone mad. “A little more time? The man needs a lifetime and his dominant hand back. He isn’t you, Jaime. You said it yourself. He was always more of a commander. Even if he had the dominant hand, I would struggle to put him out there.”

“He insists on fighting, Brienne! If he is to fight, I can’t keep him safe if he isn’t near me!” Jaime’s frustration spilled over and he stomped away.

Moving quickly after him, Brienne grabbed his arm. “And how many people do you plan to personally guard during this war? Shall we strap the children to your back too?”

Jaime swallowed thickly and looked to her. His voice softened. “Do you think they would hold still back there?”

Brienne scoffed and looked away. “You’re ridiculous. They and your father will be safest here at the Keep with the Queensgaurd not joining us on the field.”

“He won’t be happy of it.” Jaime grimaced as he spoke. His eyes darted back in the direction they had observed his father training.

“I don’t much care. Consider it a role reversal. For much of your life until a couple of years ago, how often did he consider your happiness? Unlike then, this is for his best interest. Let me talk to him.”

Jaime nodded in understanding, but again implored her to reconsider. “I think it best to leave the old man be. He’s more stubborn than you and the Blackfish combined.”

“Speaking of…” Brienne’s eyes landed on Ser Brynden Tully in the distance. He was standing with Jon and Edmure on the outskirts of the yards. A few moons after the triplets were born, word arrived of the Blackfish’s return to his ancestral home. Brienne had been shocked to hear of his survival as everyone presumed him dead with the rest of his kin at the Red Wedding.

Brynden had traveled to the capital with Edmure a year ago. The Tully men wished to meet with their new queen and see the Stark girls. Edmure was eager to see his nieces and pleased to see how well they were.

It had taken some time for Brynden to warm up to the idea of Prince Consort Jaime Lannister. After meeting with fellow knights he respected, such as Ser Barristan, his attitude towards Jaime changed. He had also been pleased to hear of the handling of the Freys, Boltons, and Cersei.

Unlike most dignitaries visiting court, the Blackfish refused to stop calling Jaime ‘Kingslayer’. The difference was that it was now spoken with respect; a strange badge of honor he awarded Jaime. The Blackfish slowly came to approve of Jaime, and Brienne could tell it meant the world to her husband.

She knew that Jaime idolized the Blackfish in his youth. Jaime shared how he hounded the man for stories of war when Tywin sent Jaime to make acquaintance with Lysa Tully in hope of arranging a match.

Soon everyone began to make their way inside for the summit. The small council sat at a long table at the front of the room. The wardens and lords paramount filled in smaller tables before them and Missandei stood to introduce the attendees.

“For those who might not know one another, our Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Ser Barristan Selmy. Master of Dragons and Lady Paramount of the Crownloands, Lady Daenerys Targaryne. Master of War, Prince Oberyn Martell. Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister. Master of Coin, Lady Genna Frey.”

Genna scoffed. “I’m a Lannister! My husband is a damn Frey.”

A small chuckle filled the room as Missandei stammered an apology. Olenna waved a dismissive hand and looked to Missandei. “Ignore her, girl. You’re doing a wonderful job. Just remember what we discussed.”

Missandei smiled and continued. “Master of Laws, Warden of the South, Lady Paramount of the Reach, Queen of Thorns, timeless beauty, Lady Olenna Tyrell.”

“Oh Gods.” Genna muttered from her seat and Brienne groaned inwardly at the pair women.

Missandei continued, ignoring Genna’s mumbled interruption. “Master of Whispers, Lord Varys. Maester of the crown, Grandmeaster Pycelle.”

Looking to the tables before her, Missandei took a deep breath and began with the remaining wardens not serving as a small council member. “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, Lord Jon Stark. Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin Lannister. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Warden of the East, Lord Tommen Baratheon. Prince of Dorne, Prince Doran Martell. Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, Lord Edmure Tully. Lord Paramount of the Vale, Lord Robin Arryn. Lady of the Iron Island, Yara Greyjoy.”

Taking pause, Missandei looked to the last table. “Her Grace has also afforded seats at this summit for our lead generals in the war to come and our allies to the North. Tormund Giantsbane leads the Free Folk. Grey Worm commands the Unsullied forces. Qhono commands the Dothraki forces. Lord Commander Edd Tollett of the Night’s Watch. Three-Eyed Raven, Lord Bran Stark of Winterfell.”

Missandei took a sigh of relief as she made it through the difficult part. At Brienne’s side, Jaime leaned forward in anticipation of their titles.

_Dear Gods. I hope Missandei knows she can skip this nonsense._

With a wide smile that betrayed the laugh threatening to push past her lips, Missandei looked to Jaime and Brienne.

“Commanding the unified Westerosi forces, Father of the little dragons…” At Missandei’s words, Daenerys groaned from down the table. “Honestly.”

“… handsomest decorative piece, and our most beloved Prince Consort, Ser Jaime Lannister.”

Tyrion snorted at Brienne’s side and crossed his arms. “Wow. You’ve outdone yourself, brother.”

Mumbling for the small council’s ears, Olenna shook her head. “Pain in our asses is a more appropriate title.”

Jaime leaned forward to glanced down the table at Olenna. His voice was loud as he teased her. “Are you talking about my ass again Lady Olenna? Honestly. You must move past this obsession. I’m spoken for.”

_Gods. Please make it stop._

Tapping the table impatiently, Brienne looked imploringly to Missandei. The young woman mouthed an apology which Brienne waved off.

_I know. This is Jaime’s doing._

“Her Grace, Ser Brienne Lannister of Tarth, first of her name. Blood of the Dragon. Queen of the Andals and the First Men. Forthcoming Evenstar. Protector of the realm and Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Destroyer of cha…”

“No! That’s more than enough, thank you.” Brienne put up a hand and rushed to cover Jaime’s requested addition since the chair incident on the balcony just over two years earlier.

Jaime was struggling to keep in his laughter at Brienne’s side. She kicked his shin from under the table and muttered for his ears alone.

“You’ll pay for that later.”

Jaime leaned into her ear and whispered suggestively. “Promise?”

Looking to Missandei, Brienne smiled warmly. “Thank you, Lady Missandei. Quite an impressive memory you have. Now, lets begin…”


	5. Evacuation Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the summit, Tyrion talks to Jon and think on their contingency plans. He then pays a visit to different family members and finds out some interesting facts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the war with the dead. Sorry for those wanting action. There is a lot to explain from the past two years and setup work to do for what is to come!

“I remember little other than that. Just darkness.” Jon’s voice was barely a whisper as Tyrion took in the words. A sharp exhale pushed past the Hand’s lips.

“How did you come back? Are you certain that you were dead? Mayhap you were just gravely wounded?” Tyrion leaned back in his chair and appraised the bastard turned nobleman.

Jon shook his head and sighed. “I hardly know. It was the red priestess, Melisandre. Ser Davos had seen her perform all manner of magic during her time serving Stannis.”

_Stannis._

Tyrion thought back on the self-proclaimed king. When Jon reclaimed his ancestral home at the behest of Queen Brienne, the young lord did not return to Winterfell alone. Davos and Melisandre had abandoned Stannis’ cause at various points.

Davos knew the Tarths. He knew them to be honest and good people. Their word was highly regarded in the Stormlands just as Ned Stark’s was in the North. After everything he had seen of Stannis and at the sacrifice of young Shireen, Davos abandoned Stannis and returned to Jon at Castle Black.

The Boltons had received requested aid for defense at Castle Black. An army of wildlings was marching towards the Wall, and the brothers feared they didn’t have the numbers to hold them back.

As the Boltons needed to move south for the plan against the Lannisters, Stannis took his army of sellswords north of the wall to try and sway the wildlings to his cause. He offered safe passage in exchange for their fealty. They refused and Stannis killed their leader before returning to Winterfell.

Before departing Winterfell, the red priestess led a sacrifice for Stannis’ victory to come. Shireen. Davos could never forgive Stannis for that. He stole away in the night and headed back to Castle Black. If Stannis won the war, he would go north of the Wall or set sail to Essos. He prayed to the Seven that the Tarths won.

Melisandre had abandoned Stannis further into the Baratheon’s march south. She saw something in the flames that made her turn around before reaching the Twins. Based on Jon’s story, she had arrived back at Castle Black just in time.

Over the past two years when Jon had to travel south, Davos served as castellan given Rickon’s age. Tyrion liked the Stormlands’ knight. The Tarths also spoke highly of Davos. They were glad to hear of his survival and break from Stannis before the battle at King’s Landing.

Considering Jon’s words, Tyrion appraised the young man. “Why do you think she brought you back?”

Jon shook his head. “Something about me being the Prince Who was Promised. To be honest, I hardly understand it. Bran has mentioned it as well, but he speaks in riddles. I just care to know which way my enemy marches so that I can ready my sword.”

_Gods. He sounds so much like Jaime. Ready to fight. Little desire for background noise._

Tyrion considered Jon. Were it not for the vicious scar Tyrion had seen on the man’s chest, he would not have believed the tale. Even being Ned Stark’s nephew, this story was too far-fetched to believe.

Tyrion sighed. “Your brother…sorry… cousin, is a most interesting young man. While I’m fond of riddles, I do wish he would speak more plainly where it concerns this enemy, and the role we are all to play. What did you think of that summit? Do you think we are prepared?”

Jon looked as uncertain as Tyrion felt. “We are as prepared we can be. To Prince Oberyn’s point, we have all the weapons necessary to fight this enemy. Your brother has devised an impressive military strategy. The liege lords and ladies are prepared with their instructions should our defenses fail. I don’t know what else we can do.”

The plan for evacuation was simple. A handful of the liege lords and ladies south of the Neck would manage designated evacuation points. Should the living fail, Westeros would evacuate as many as they could to Essos.

According to Bran, the Night King’s ability to freeze large bodies of water would take an extensive amount of time, and Bran wasn’t even certain to what extent the creature could freeze more than coastlines and harbors. It would take an unrealistic temperature drop in all of the known world for the entirety of the Narrow Sea to freeze.

Everyone agreed, it was more than likely the living would be safe in Essos should the need arise. The Night King’s path to Essos would likely be through Dorne. The smattering of islands between Dorne and Tyrosh would be his only realistic crossing point where the waters were shallow enough to freeze between land masses. Even if he managed that, the living would be afforded substantial time to prepare and amass more soldiers from those living across the Narrow Sea.

Daenerys wrote to inform Daario of the threat in Westeros. She had left behind a contingent of her men with Daario to hold Meereen. The young Targaryen offered the city as a refuge for all those fleeing Westeros.

Should the living fail, The Rock would serve as one of two evacuation points along the Western coast. Sansa and Tyrion would be stationed at Casterly Rock to lead the effort.

In a matter of days, Brienne would take Sansa and Tyrion to the Rock on Viserion’s back. Sansa was already eight moons pregnant and it was too dangerous for her to travel by land. Pod and a small group of Lannister bannerman had already departed for the Rock and would guard their future Lord and Lady during the Long Night.

Citizens of the Riverlands and West would evacuate by Lannisport should the need arise. Oldtown, the seat of House Hightower and the Citadel, would serve as the second evacuation point along the western coast.

Those living in the Reach and southern holdings of the West, would make their way to Oldtown should defenses fail. All other ports had deployed their fleets to the nearest evacuation site to ensure as many living could be saved as possible.

In Dorne, Starfall would serve as the southeastern evacuation point and Sunspear would serve as the southwestern evacuation point. Stonehelm and Storm’s End would serve as evacuation routes for the Stormlands while Gulltown was the evacuation site for the Vale.

Lady Olenna elected to accompany her granddaughter and Tommen to Storm’s End. She wished to watch over the young couple and aid any evacuation efforts in the east should that prove necessary. They would depart in a few days when the rest of the castle occupants parted ways. Tyrion thought back to the amusing exchange between Jaime and Olenna after the summit ended.

Jaime had dragged his chair over between Olenna and Genna once the dignitaries began to file out. The small council remained behind to run through any final preparations necessary. With an amused smile, Tyrion had watched as Jaime teased Olenna.

“Are you going to miss me Lady Olenna? We only have a few days left together.”

The Queen of Thorns scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I’m quite looking forward to the break from you. I won’t have to fight for any grapes on my cheese platters either.”

Jaime draped his arm over her shoulders and spoke in feigned seriousness. “A few days does give us time to commission a painting of my ass for you to take to Storm’s End. You can hang it in your room so it’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thing you see when you fall asleep.”

“Jaime Lannister! You are truly irredeemable! I cannot wait to be rid of you. I hope a wight tears your ass right off.”

Jaime scoffed and removed his arm, feigning insult. “A threat against my ass is a threat against the crown itself.”

Brienne eventually wrangled Jaime and the council continued with their planning. Tyrion’s mind wandered to the rest of the evacuation plans.

As acting castellan, Mace Tyrell remained at Highgarden, but would make this way to Oldtown should evacuation prove necessary. He would be in charge of overseeing evacuation efforts at that site.

In the Crownlands, King’s Landing and Duskendale would serve as evacuation sites. The triplets, Genna, Varys, and Grandmaseter Pycelle would stay at the Keep. Tyrion hoped that Brienne would convince Tywin of the same.

The rest of the small council, including the Prince Consort and Queen, would be in the field of battle. Jaime would lead the Westerosi forces at the Neck with Oberyn and Ser Barristan at his side. Brienne would lead the airstrike with Daenerys and Jon from atop their respective dragons.

Ser Barristan had been less than thrilled at the plan involving the Queen. He grimaced before he had spoken his concerns. “Your Grace. It is the duty of the Queensguard to protect you. I don’t imagine you’ll be strapping us to the back of Viserion.”

Brienne sighed and met his eyes. “Ser Barristan, I would see you guard the Prince Consort. Should I fall in battle, he will be regent until Princess Catelyn comes of age.” It was the only time during the summit and preparation for the dead that Tyrion saw the fear in Jaime's eyes. Losing Brienne would break him.

At the summit, the order of succession had been announced. Princess Catelyn would be heir to the Iron Throne. Tyrion watched Tywin’s reaction as the announcement was made by the queen. Expecting his father to cringe or scoff at the boys being passed over, Tyrion was shocked to see an approving nod. Tywin’s chest swelled with pride at the announcement of his granddaughter’s status.

The summit participants hummed in delight. Catelyn was the standout of the triplets. The tots were quite young, but from what little they could gather of their personalities, Catelyn was the sound choice.

An heir was not yet declared for Tarth, although Tyrion thought it irrelevant. _Lets first see what life, if any, remains in Westeros after this war._

From the Queensguard, Ser Addam, Ser Boros, and Ser Endrew would join Ser Barristan at the Neck. They were the most skilled fighters of the Queensguard and everyone agreed that they should be there in protection of the crown.

The two remaining Queensguard would protect the triplets at the Red Keep. Ser Barristan had yet to name a seventh Queensguard despite numerous inquiries from skilled knights across the realm. Given the situation at hand, Barristan wanted more time to establish trust in a new Queensguard member, and time was not a luxury he had been afforded. The men left behind would be guarding the heir and he could not risk an unproven knight being given such important responsibility. 

As Tyrion’s mind returned to the conversation at hand, he looked to Jon and smiled before standing to bid his goodbyes. Jon spoke abruptly and halted Tyrion's departure. “I just want to thank you, by the way.”

“Thank me?”

A slight awkwardness settled over Jon’s features as he stood from his chair. “My cousins, particularly Sansa. She told me that you ensured her safety and comfort when your father first forced the marriage. That you did not dishonor her. She said that your love grew over time and she wished to remain married. She happily consented to the family you are now building. I was worried when I first heard of it all, but knowing you as I do, I should never have doubted your decency in the matter.”

Tyrion smiled warmly at Jon and nodded. “Sansa is an incredible woman. I am lucky to have her in my life. Luckier still that she chooses this life with me. I will take care of her always. You have my word.”

Jon nodded and smiled. “Aye, I know you will.” The young lord paused before continuing and his brows furrowed slightly. “Can I ask you something that would remain between us?”

With a shrug, Tyrion looked around the small room. “Of course.”

Jon seemed to struggle with whatever thoughts were rolling around in his mind. His hand tightened around the pommel of his sword as he considered his next words. “The red priestess is waiting with the Northern forces at the Neck. Melisandre said she would be needed in the war to come. She also said something to me on the way south that I don’t understand. She said we need to beat death where we could not hold life. She also said that I must be there.”

_What? Gods can these seers not speak plainly?_

Tyrion sighed in exasperation. “I wish I understood what it means. I suggest we tell Jaime. He won’t know either, but if he is to lead the army, perhaps he will understand when the time comes.”

Jon nodded in agreement and looked to the floor. “Aye. I’ll mention it to him. I wish the path to victory was clearer.”

“You and me both, my friend. Well, I best check in on Sansa. She is with little Catelyn and likely fading fast. Our heir to the throne is a bundle of energy. That’s a lot for a woman eight moons pregnant.”

Jon chuckled at the words. His dark curly hair bobbing at the motion. “Aye. All three seem a handful; especially the one who growls all the time. To be honest, I can hardly tell the boys apart. They both just look like smaller versions of Ser Jaime.”

“Ha! Yes, that would be little Selwyn. Have you properly met Brienne’s father? The pair sound the same in speech. Arya is with little Sel now. I can only imagine the trouble they’ve been getting into these past hours.”

Moving from the room, Tyrion stepped into the hallway and closed his eyes briefly. The castle was much louder and more chaotic these past several days. With all the dignitaries arriving for the summit and the armies marching north towards the Neck, the Keep was likely a fair representation of the rest of Westeros. Pure insanity.

_I’ll be happy to be at the Rock soon. A cruel fate that my babe will be born in a time of death._

Tyrion walked quickly to his room. Given his status as Lord Hand, it was nearly impossible to make such a journey without be stopped several times by needy castle occupants. It was the only time that Tyrion felt glad of his size. He weaved through the crowds and tried to remain unseen as he grew excited at the thought of seeing his wife.

Arriving at his room after only two interruptions, Tyrion stepped inside and smiled widely at the sight before him. Sansa had little Catelyn on her lap and was braiding the young girl’s hair. Two partially finished sewing projects sat on the table beside them and Tyrion strained to hear the conversation.

Sansa’s voice was filled with warmth as she spoke to the young girl. “Yes, I think the babe will be most excited to meet you. Unfortunately, you won’t meet him or her until after your parents deal with some things. I have to leave soon to go to Casterly Rock.”

Little Catelyn whimpered in response. “No. I go with you?”

“No, little one. You need to stay here with Great Aunt Genna. She needs you to help her keep your brothers in line. Can you do that?”

A wide smile pulled at Catelyn’s face. “Ok auntie. I help.”

Moving into the room, Tyrion’s eyes met Sansa’s. Her features softened as he leaned in to give her a kiss before sitting down across from Catelyn. “Look at you, little Cat! How beautiful.”

Catelyn smiled widely at Tyrion. Her big blue eyes filled with delight. “Uncle Ty. I make this.” She pointed excitedly at the sewing project and her little chest swelled with pride. Tyrion bit back a laugh as he appraised it.

_Gods. She sews like her mother. Truly horrible. I imagine she will be better with the more deadly needle._

“That… is excellent. Can I wear it when you’re finished?”

Behind the young girl, Sansa chuckled. “Your uncle enjoys wearing handkerchiefs atop his head. Keeps his golden curls protected from all the crumbs given your father’s constant munching over him.”

_Oh. It’s a handkerchief._

Seeing that Sansa was fatiguing, Tyrion offered to take little Catelyn back to her parents. Sansa waved him off and looked to little Catelyn. “I think we’re both due for our afternoon naps. Will you keep me company, Catelyn?”

Sansa had begun taking short naps in the afternoon as her pregnancy progressed. The dark circles under her eyes reflected the lack of sleep she was getting at night. She tossed and turned, unable to find comfort. Tyrion tried to rub her back and prop pillows under her aching joints, but he understood that the only reprieve would be birthing the babe.

At Sansa’s suggestion, the young girl nodded eagerly, and Tyrion helped them settle into the bed. “I suppose I’ll track down someone else to bother. I’ll be back later to check on you ladies.”

Placing a kiss to their heads, Tyrion left the room in search of his father. Making his way through the hallway, Tyrion spotted Jaime and Genna speaking in hushes tones outside her room.

Genna looked uneasy about something and Tyrion wondered what had his aunt so concerned. “Ah two of my favorite family members, right after the other six or so that I prefer. Brother, our heir is taking her nap with my wife.”

Jaime snorted and nodded in understanding. “Good. That is confirmation that one of the children survived the day.”

Tyrion hummed and looked a few doors down to where Tywin was staying. “Do you know if father is in?”

Jaime shook his head in denial. “I just tried to find him, but he isn’t there. I imagine he went off to find Selwyn and little Tywin.”

“Ah. Well in that case, I suppose I’ll seek him out later. What are you two on about?”

Genna sighed and glanced at Jaime before turning to Tyrion. “Olenna just found out that Margaery is pregnant. That is the true reason she wishes to go to Storm’s End.”

Tyrion’s brows shot up in surprise. “Well that is unexpected, but wonderful news.” Lowering his voice slightly, Tyrion teased Jaime. “So, you’ll be a grandfather and a great uncle all at once?”

The returning look from Jaime conveyed his lack of amusement at the words. Before Jaime could reply, Genna pulled them into her room and spoke in hushed tones. Her voice betrayed her annoyance.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I may trust Olenna, but not that granddaughter of hers. I have it on good authority that the babe is not Tommen’s. They have not laid together in many moons. Well… not until the maester at Storm’s End confirmed her pregnancy. Then she moved to lay with Tommen for the first time in quite a while.”

_What!?_

“How do you know this? Does Olenna know?”

Genna sighed. “Olenna seems ignorant to the girl’s wandering affections. Clearly, she had little control over Loras. Margaery proves equally difficult. The truth is sure to come out in several moons when the babe arrives. That babe will bear no crown of gold. Apparently, one of Robert’s bastards found out of his lineage and pledged fealty to Tommen. He has been working in the armory at Storm’s End. Some… Gendry fellow. Apparently, Margaery is quite upset because the boy is moving north with the bannermen towards the Neck. He intends to fight in this war.”


	6. Winter Is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grandfathers spend time with the triplets. They go on an unexpected adventure.

Tywin sat in the small sailboat with the triplets and Selwyn. The grandfathers had decided to take the children on a sail around the harbor to distract them from the chaos of war preparations.

The summit had taken place two days ago and much of the castle occupants were leaving today or on the morrow. Later that night, Tywin intended to have dinner with his sons. He prayed to the Seven that it would not be the last time he had with his sons in this world.

The day prior, Brienne had approached Tywin and Selwyn about staying behind with the children. Tywin thought back on the conversation in the Keep. The queen had knocked on the door as the grandfathers sat on the balcony in Selwyn’s room, sipping their brandy and laughing at each other’s stories of years gone by.

“Daughter! Come in. Your father and I were just reminiscing. A little light before the darkness.” Tywin stepped back and let her into the room. They all wore heavy clothing and cloaks as they sat on the balcony. The weather had turned quickly and at night, it felt as though they were visiting the Wall.

“I’m glad you’re both here. I have to discuss an important matter with you both.” At Brienne’s words, the two men sat forward and listened intently.

“I’ve spoken with Jaime and we’re both worried about what is to come. There is a high likelihood that we will not survive this war and that our plans for evacuation will need to be called on. If we both fall in battle, we don’t trust anyone to raise the children except both of you. I know before we asked you to stay behind and guard the children, but this goes beyond that now. Cat is heir and will need guidance. I fear anyone else may seek to gain power through the children and corrupt them. I truly need you both to stay behind with them. Guard them and get them safely to Essos should the need arise. Please.”

Selwyn began to argue. His face contorted in frustration as he rattled off the many reasons that he was needed in battle, but Tywin appraised Brienne. Her eyes betrayed her fear and Tywin knew that she was not a sound liar. He wanted to fight in battle; to protect his children and grandchildren. He wanted to fight for a worthy cause and not his own selfish ambitions.

_Mayhap this is the most selfless thing I can do. I can set their minds at ease._

Cutting off Selwyn’s tangent, Tywin spoke quietly. “I don’t want to stay here, but I will for you and Jaime if that is what you want.” At his words, both Tarths looked to him in shock.

“Ty! We will win this war and we must keep our children safe on the battlefield! I am not leaving them alone to die out there.”

Tywin snorted and shook his head. “You weren’t in the council. They have more people to keep them safe than you have stores of brandy at Evenfall. I don’t wish to remain here anymore than you do, but what if she is right. What if it is a lost cause and death rolls over us all? I don’t want anyone in Essos harming the grandbabes. Genna can’t watch over them alone.”

As painful as it was to admit his limited use in battle, Tywin did feel he could help Genna safeguard the children should the need arise. Three children alone in Essos with only Genna worried him. The fact that Tyrion and Sansa would be at the Rock concerned Tywin. Had they been staying at the Keep, Tywin would not consider this plan. The children would have enough trusted kin to raise them.

“Who in Essos would harm the tots!? Genna won’t be alone. We have others here. There’s Varys and Pycelle.” As soon as the words left Selwyn’s mouth, he grimaced. “Gods. That won’t do. Why the fuck are Tyrion and Sansa going to the Rock!? Keep them here Brienne! Then Ty and I won’t be necessary. The babes will have younger and more competent guardians if we fail.”

Brienne shook her head and sighed. “They need to lead the evacuation of the West. They are heirs to the Rock. It is their duty. Besides, if something happens to all of us _and_ the triplets, the Hand would take the throne. That is Tyrion. His babe will be heir after him. We can’t have everyone with claim to the throne in one place. It is too risky.”

Tywin knew that Brienne had the right of it. He hated it. He wanted to fight, but then he remembered Bran’s prophetic words to Jaime.

_We will wield these weapons. Perhaps there is to be fighting here. What if Genna is left alone to guard the babes with a mere two Queensguard and some useless Gold Cloaks? That won’t do._

Looking to Selwyn, a silent exchange passed between the grandfathers. They would fight to keep the tots safe with everything they had. Neither liked being sidelined from the fighting, but Brienne raised fair concerns. No one would safeguard the triplets like their grandparents in absence of Tyrion and Sansa. Everyone else might be overrun at the first pass with the dead.

Selwyn huffed in annoyance and nodded. “Fine. We’ll watch the babes. We’ll raise them as you and Jaime would have. Well… maybe we’ll leave out a few of Jaime’s habits.”

Turning to Brienne, Tywin tried to control his emotions and hold his mask of indifference. “You two survive this. Do you understand me? I’ll have no reports of your deaths from an attempt to do something stupid in battle. I’ll have you both raised by a red priestess so that I may kill you myself should you do so.”

Tywin’s memories of the night before were interrupted by the eager voice of little Tywin.

“Grandpa Ty! Fish!” Little Tywin pointed over the edge of the boat excitedly. Peering over the side, Tywin smiled as a school of fish swam under the boat in the opposite direction.

“Yes, very good. Look over the other side. They’re passing underneath.” Tywin tapped the young tot’s shoulder and inclined his head to the other side of the boat. Little Tywin moved over eagerly and clapped at the sight.

At the other end of the small boat, little Sel was shouting at the seagulls soaring overhead. Selwyn laughed at the boy’s antics. “Gods, boy! You’re loud enough to scare away the dead. Mayhap your parents should take you with them.”

Little Catelyn moved to Tywin and climbed onto his lap. “Grandpa Ty. It’s cold.”

Every day in King’s Landing felt colder than the last. Even today, it seemed to get colder by the minute as they sailed along the Blackwater not far from the shoreline.

“Yes, I’m afraid it might be this way for a while longer, sweetling.” Tywin looked towards the skies and appraised the dark cloud covering. The temperature seemed to fall rapidly over the past hour, and he thought it might be time to head back.

Before he could say as much to Selwyn, Tywin looked to little Catelyn. As the child shivered slightly and exhaled, a small puff of condensation pushed past her lips.

_Gods! It’s like we’re in the North._

“Sel, the temperature is dropping fast. I think we should get the little ones back.” Tywin’s voice betrayed his unease at the rapid change in weather. The days were growing shorter and much of King’s Landing was ill-prepared for such a shift in climate.

Selwyn hummed and looked around them. “Yes, yes. Even the fish are fleeing south. Strange times indeed.”

The words rattled around in Tywin’s head. _Even the fish are fleeing. I hope we do not follow suit._

They turned around the small vessel while explaining the sails to the children. Both men grew up on the coast and sailing was a freeing experience for them. It was one of many hobbies they found they had in common.

As their sailboat made the turn and came closer to the dock, Tywin took appraisal of the shoreline. The first signs of frost dotted the shore. They had opted to take the boat from a smaller port that was much closer to the Keep. The main port in King’s Landing was too busy and the grandfathers didn’t want to overwhelm the tots.

_Gods. The dead march towards the Neck, but their impact on the climate stretches this far south already. I hate to imagine how cold it will feel further north for our children._

They guided the small ship towards the dock and Selwyn prepared to tie them off. Little Selwyn tried to jump onto the dock as the boat approached, but he lost his footing and slipped over the boat’s short railing. Tywin felt his heart stop at the sight and jumped to his feet with little Catelyn still in his arms.

Grabbing him quickly, Selwyn hauled the young tot back over the railing. His little hands had been the only part of his person to touch the water. As the boy hung upside-down giggling, Tywin felt himself release a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.

Selwyn chuckled and shook his head as he righted the boy. “Gods, boy! Careful. You’ll freeze to death in those waters. Slow down now.” Selwyn ruffled the boy’s hair and grabbed at the approaching dock to tie off the boat. Little Selwyn pointed impatiently at something on the dock. His words were barely comprehensible.

“Get the ber! Ber, Gramp! Ber!” Little Selwyn was unrelenting, and Tywin followed his eyeline to the dock.

_What is he on about?_

“The bird, grandpa Ty.” Little Tywin translated for his brother. Looking back to the dock, Tywin saw a lone raven on the pillar. The bird was cawing aggressively at them and seemed eager to get their attention.

_How peculiar._

Selwyn climbed out of the boat and Tywin lifted the children to his friend. Once the children were safely on the dock, Selwyn extended a hand to Tywin. “Come on young man. I can’t handle these rascals by myself.”

With a small laugh, Tywin stepped out. His legs were stiff from the time spent in the small sailboat and he chuckled as his friend rubbed at his own sore knees.

“Young man indeed.” Tywin spoke teasingly before glancing to the children. They were making their way towards the raven; their laughter ricocheting off the stonewalls lining the shoreline.

Selwyn grumbled and moved after them. “Slow down children. Your grandfathers aren’t as spritely as they used to be.”

The raven took off at the children’s approach but didn’t move far. It was as though it was waiting for them to catch up. Tywin huffed and strode quickly after Selwyn and the children. His eyes tracked the triplets as they followed the bird down the end of the dock.

He sighed and caught up to Selwyn. “Leave it be children. We’ll get you a cat or something more reasonable than a filthy bird.”

Selwyn snorted and countered. “Or a hound! Too many felines in this family.”

Tywin rolled his eyes and looked to Selwyn who was all too amused at his lion reference. The children were now standing on the shore and clapping happily as they looked up at the raven circling above. Every time the children neared the bird, it would fly further down the shoreline and circle the sky until the children caught up.

When the grandfathers reached them, they tried to move the children away from the bird and towards the horses that they had left tied off. Little Catelyn ran ahead towards the raven before Selwyn or Tywin could grab her.

The two young boys wiggled free and ran after their sister, laughing the entire way.

Tywin snorted and shook his head. “Always leading the way our little Catelyn.”

Selwyn groaned. “I would rather she led the way to a tavern. I’m hungry and could use some ale.”

Calling ahead to the children, Tywin tried to wrangle them. He found that his tone lost the bite it used to have with his own children. “Come now, children. We need to get back.”

_Gods. I’ve gone all soft. The day I would have let the twins and Tyrion jerk me around like this would have been the day the Stranger came for me._

Looking to the sky, Tywin observed the raven moving lower and drawing the children further down the shoreline. Selwyn seemed to be making the same observation.

He chuckled as they picked up the pace to catchup. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that raven is leading the way. Not Catelyn.”

The pattern repeated several times over until they came to a concealed section of the beach. The children ran around a rockface that jutted out slightly into the water. All three children splashed through the waves crashing against the rocks as they moved to the other side.

At the loss of view of the triplets, but grandfathers jogged ahead and moved around the rock wall quickly. Their steps halted abruptly when they saw the children standing before a large cave opening. The bird cawed and moved inside, prompting the children to follow.

“No! Come back now, children. Enough exploring for today!” Tywin ran forward and grabbed little Tywin, but with only one hand, he couldn’t grab either of the others as easily. Selwyn moved past him and snatched up little Selwyn. The young boy let out a playful roar as Selwyn scooped him up.

Moving into the cave after the pair, Tywin heard Selwyn growl in pain as his head scraped against the top of the cave. “Gods damnit! Who made this blasted cave? It’s too short.”

Tywin chuckled and ducked his head as he neared the area Selwyn stood. It was near impossible to see ahead of them. The cave was dark and damp, but in the distance, Tywin could hear the raven cawing and Catelyn giggling.

“Cat! Come back, sweetling! We can’t see you.” Tywin stumbled forward while holding little Ty in his arms. The young tot yelled excitedly. “The bird grandpa! Three eyes!” The young tot put his finger between Tywin’s eyes and giggled.

_What? Three eyes?_

Tywin put out his flesh hand to steady himself against the cave wall as he moved forward. He could sense Selwyn at his heels, muttering while holding a roaring little Selwyn in his arms.

The sound of Cat’s distancing laughter worried Tywin and he tried to move faster. He could barely see where he was going as there was limited light filtering in. “Cat! Stop! We can’t lose you.”

Tywin could feel his heart pounding as he tried to follow the girl’s voice. At several points, he tripped over some rocks. He continued to reach out, dragging his hand along the damp walls of the cave. Little Tywin began to wiggle in his maimed arm. The sensation sent jolts to the sensitive nerve endings at his wrist.

A slight breeze kissed Tywin’s face as he sensed a change in pressure. The sound of Cat’s voice and the cawing raven came closer. In the distance, he could see a faint light up ahead. When he caught up to the young girl, she was staring up at the raven. It was perched atop a wall in what appeared to be a small room that connected to a long hallway.

_By the Gods. We’re in the tunnels below the city. I think we’re near the Keep._

On one of the walls, Tywin could make out an extinguished torch. Putting little Tywin down, he moved towards the torch and yanked it off the wall. “This should help us get out without falling on our faces. Do you have that dagger of yours?”

Selwyn barked a laugh. “The day I don’t, is the day I cease to draw breath!” Selwyn grabbed the torch and rested it on the ground. Grabbing a nearby rock, he struck it hard with his dagger, sending stray sparks at the torch. After a few attempts, the torch went up in flames.

Selwyn grumbled as he stood up on sore knees. “Thank the Gods! My head isn’t built for these small tunnels. I feel like your son made this damn tunnel to fuck with me.”

Tywin chuckled and looked to the children. “None of you repeat that foul language! Your mother will kill us.” Sending a disapproving look at Selwyn, Tywin could barely help the smile tugging at his lips.

Selwyn feigned indifference but offered a conciliatory nod. “She is frightening.”

Picking up little Ty, Tywin spoke to the other tots. “Lets go now. We’ve had enough adventure for today.”

Turning to leave, Tywin’s progress was halted by the raven. It cawed aggressively in his face, sending him stumbling backwards. A strange look flashed over little Tywin’s features. He spoke more clearly than he ever had before.

“We follow the bird.”

Looking to the boy in confusion, Tywin glanced at Selwyn who held onto little Sel. With a shrug, the island of a man sighed. “A little while longer. Then we must return to the Keep.”

The raven darted down the connecting hallway and they began to follow it. Selwyn led the way with the torch in hand. They seemed to walk forever, and Tywin felt his legs and arms fatiguing.

_Gods. This is ridiculous. We need to turn back._

“Sel. I’m too old for this. We should head back.”

Selwyn looked over his shoulder and nodded. “I’ve had about enough myself.” Selwyn looked ahead and shouted out. At some point, Catelyn had run ahead again. “Little Cat! We need to go back now.”

The little girl stopped ahead and looked up at the raven. It cawed impatiently and she smiled. “Father!”

Selwyn chuckled. “Ha! The damn bird is as annoying as your father. I’ll give you that!”

Catelyn shook her head and pointed up. “No. Father!”

As Selwyn and Tywin came to stand next to her, they looked up at some type of large sewer covering. Sure enough, they heard Jaime’s voice. He was talking to someone above.

“Jaime!?” Tywin shouted up towards the covering. The sound of footsteps overhead reached Tywin’s ears.

“Father?” Jaime’s voice called out inquiringly from above. Looking to little Ty, Tywin spoke to the child. “I’m going to put you on my shoulders, Ty. Can you knock on that cover?”

The young boy nodded in understanding and Tywin put the child on his shoulders. Little Tywin reached up and his tiny knuckles hit the covering.

“What the fuck!?” Jaime’s voice rang out and he yelled to someone near him. Within moments, the covering was yanked back, and Jaime peered down into the hole.

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight of them. “What are you all doing down there!? How did you even get there? I thought you went sailing?”

Barristan’s head came into view beside Jaime. The Lord Commander’s eyes went wide. “Gods! We haven’t used that passage in years! It runs all the way to the old docks.”

Barristan reached down and grabbed little Tywin from Tywin’s shoulders. Selwyn handed up little Sel and Cat before turning to Tywin. “Come on. I’ll hoist you up.”

Selwyn cupped his hands and motioned for Tywin to step in. The ceilings were low in the ancient tunnel, likely no taller than 8 feet. Tywin stepped into Selwyn’s clasped hands as his friend hoisted him up. Jaime and Barristan looped an arm under Tywin’s armpits and pulled him up and over.

Looking back down at Selwyn, the man guffawed. “Well I doubt any of you can lift me out. You’re out of your fucking minds if you think I’m walking all the way back out! You might as well send a maester to collect my dead body down here.”

Tywin watched as Jaime looked around the hallway. They were on the lowest level of the keep just outside the black cells. “Hold on. I’m getting something.”

Jaime jogged down the hallway and took one of the stools that the guards used during long night shifts outside the cells.

Moving back towards the opening, Jaime dropped the stool down to Sewlyn. The stool gave Selwyn the added height he needed to reach up and hoist himself up. Jaime and Barristan strained to help pull the massive man out.

“Fucking hells! What do you eat!?” Jaime grunted as he strained and pulled with all his might. The children laughed loudly as the sight before them and Tywin himself couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. Selwyn barely fit through the large opening. His broad shoulders squeezed through forcibly.

“Tighter than a maiden’s cunt!” The older lord groaned as his body finally emerged and he rolled to his back, gasping for air. Tywin gasped and moved to cover little Cat’s ears, but it was too late.

“What a cunt?” Little Ty looked up at Tywin inquiringly.

_Seven hells!_

Jaime’s eyes went wide as he looked back at his son. “Don’t repeat that! Your mother will not be pleased. Grandfather Sel is senile and forgets himself.”

Selwyn chuckled and rolled to his belly from his back as he gasped for air. “I said ‘tighter than a maid’s cunning mind.’ Came out a bit garbled. Apologies.”

Tywin smirked at his friend’s attempted recovery. Moving back the covering, Barristan looked to them inquiringly. “How exactly did you find your way down there?”

Little Cat piped up eagerly at his side. “The bird! Three eyes!”

Jaime and Barristan looked to Tywin and Selwyn in confusion. Waving his hand dismissively, Tywin stretched his back and ruffled little Ty’s hair. “We had a little adventure. Now Grandpa Sel and I are done for the day. They’re all yours, son.”

Selwyn reached into his jerkin and pulled out his flask of brandy. “Ha! Good. I’ve had enough of this shit. Traipsing about in caves and freezing my balls off in a boat.”

_Great. Selwyn has taught the children ‘cunt’ and ‘balls’ today. Good luck to Jaime explaining all this._

Jaime scooped up little Cat and little Sel with an ease that made Tywin groan.

_Gods. I’m old._

“Alright children. Ser Barristan and I were finishing some preparations down here. Lets go find your mother.”

With a smile and nod, Barristan picked up little Ty and trailed after Jaime. Turning back to Selwyn, Tywin raised a brow and smirked.

“Tighter than a maiden’s cunt?”

Selwyn shrugged and feigned innocence. “What? You heard your boy. I’m senile. Forgot the little ones were there. I nearly died getting out of fucking tunnel. Can you imagine it! The great Selwyn Tarth… died getting his head stuck in a dark, deep, damp hole.

Tywin snorted. “Gods. Well I suppose we’ve done our grandfatherly duties for the day. Mayhap we should have the attendants fetch the horses at the docks.”

Nodding in agreement, Selwyn dusted off his clothing. “First lets eat. Then we’ll track down someone to rescue the horses.”

The pair made their way towards the hall. Tywin would describe the mood of the castle as organized chaos. Everyone was finishing preparation for most of the castle occupants’ departure over the course of the next day. As they approached, Tywin spotted Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, and Bran entering the room. 

The men nodded to the group and moved to sit with them in the great hall. As Tywin sat down beside Selwyn, the Sark children sat opposite them. Arya wheeled Bran directly across from Tywin before taking her own seat.

The young man smiled knowingly at the grandfathers. “Did you enjoy your adventures with the triplets today?”

Selwyn huffed a laugh. “I think we’re properly worn out. Just one of those children has more energy than the two of us combined.”

Bran nodded and a flicker of amusement flashed over his featured. The boy’s eyes locked on Tywin and his tone became ominous. “Just don’t forget the way.”


	7. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The castle occupants depart for the war with the dead.

Jaime leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. The flames from the fireplace were stifling, but it was more welcome than the unprecedented cold which descended upon King’s Landing the past few days.

Tyrion and Tywin were deep in conversation over the news of Margaery’s betrayal, and Jaime wanted nothing to do with it. The information had unsettled Jaime, and Margaery’s behavior felt too familiar to Cersei’s and Robert’s cavalier attitude regarding wedding vows.

At the same time, Jaime felt like a hypocrite. He was the Gendry in the triangle with Cersei and Robert. An unwed man pledged to serve, but who was secretly sleeping with the lady of the house while the lord was ignorant to their dalliances.

_At least Gendry and Margaery are not kin by blood. Either way, I may slit the boy’s throat if I get the chance._

They were taking supper together at Tywin’s request. It was to be Tyrion’s last night in the capital before Brienne brought Tyrion and Sansa to the Rock. Jaime would depart within the day following Tyrion’s departure. It would take Jaime, Barristan, Oberyn, Bran, Arya, Addam, and Endrew longer to make their way north than those riding atop a dragon.

The smith had been hard at work customizing a saddle for Bran per Tyrion’s specifications. Jaime was quite glad of it, because he assumed it would be his duty to host the strange young man stop his horse.

Daenerys, Jon, and Brienne would linger an additional week in the capital. They worried that the dragons would not adapt well to the cold, and they preferred keeping the beasts south longer before joining the men in the north.

By the time they were all at the Neck, the dead would likely been just under a moon turn away from arriving. Tywin’s stern voice cut through Jaime’s thoughts.

“When the dead are dealt with, Margaery must be removed from Storm’s End. I won’t see Tommen forced to raise a bastard’s bastard.”

“As he himself is a bastard.” Jaime’s tone was bitter despite agreeing with his father on the matter. Tommen would need a new and more faithful wife.

Tyrion sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I agree, but we must be careful about this. We will need to make a new match for Tommen, but we can offer to legitimize the babe as a Tyrell so that Olenna gets an heir for Highgarden. Margaery will of course need a just punishment, but this isn’t the babe’s fault. Jaime has a point.”

“I was not aware that I was making a point.” Jaime tapped the foot of the table with his boot and looked to Tyrion.

With a heavy sigh, Tywin brought the brothers’ attention back to him. “Enough politics for the night. I wish to spend time with my sons. While unpleasant to think on, there is a chance we may never get the opportunity again.”

_Oh Gods. Here we go._

Jaime snorted and glanced at Tywin. “It’s a good thing you have those heirs that you’ve always wanted.”

“That is not funny, Jaime!” Tywin scolded him in a tone that Jaime was more accustomed to hearing from his father, as opposed to the tone he often heard over the last two years. Before Jaime could reply, Tywin continued speaking.

“You will both survive this and watch your children grow to have children of their own. I will not bury my sons at the end of this.” It was evident from the look on Tywin’s face that he feared such an outcome.

Jaime tried to tease, but his tone betrayed his genuine concern. “Don’t worry father, you won’t need to bury me. You’ll need to burn me or perhaps cut me down with your fancy new sword when I arrive at the Keep with blue eyes.”

Trying to make light of the situation was the only way that Jaime knew to cope with the fear of his children growing up parentless. Tywin opened his mouth to scold Jaime, but when he met Jaime’s eyes, Tywin seemed to think better of it. Instead, Tywin took a deep breath and spoke reassuringly.

“You have my word that we will be halfway to Essos before that comes to pass.”

With an appreciative nod, Jaime looked down at his lap. He did not want to get emotional over unknowns. Of the three at the table, Jaime was in the most precarious position; a position he preferred to seeing Tyrion and Tywin in the very path of the Stranger himself.

From across the table, Jaime heard Tywin speak in a shaky voice. “I am very proud of you boys. You’ve grown into fine men despite me. It is not your marriages nor heirs that make me feel that way. It is the men you have grown to become. Your mother would be most pleased if she were alive to see you today.”

A heavy silence filled the room at Tywin’s words. Throughout Jaime’s life, Tywin never spoke in such a manner. It was touching, but worrisome that Tywin felt compelled to put voice to thoughts he would otherwise bury behind an attitude of indifference. It was as though Tywin prepared for the Stranger and wanted to confess his sins like a dying man before a Septon.

Speaking hurriedly to move past the sentimental offering, Tywin cleared his throat and spoke again. “Alright, enough of that now. I need some more wine. Tell me one of your tasteless japes, Tyrion.”

Tyrion clapped his hands together and leaned forward eagerly. “Did I ever tell you the one about the jackass and the honeycomb?”

The next morning, Jaime made his way towards the courtyard with Tyrion and Sansa. His mind was wild with things he wanted to say, but feared expressing. When they stepped outside, Jaime cringed at the temperature and lack of daylight. Jaime’s breath lead the way as it mingled with the cool air, and he tugged his cloak tighter around his body.

Brienne and Tywin were speaking near Viserion, as Genna stood beside Arya and Bran. Turning to Tyrion, Jaime sighed. “Well little brother, time for you to start redecorating the Rock. Be certain to hang little direwolves all over the place to piss off father when he next returns.”

Tyrion snorted and looked to Sansa. “I imagine it would make for a more reasonable pet than a lion.”

The young girl shook her head and came to stand before Jaime. With a heavy sigh, her brows furrowed. “Now don’t do anything stupid like getting yourself killed. I need this babe to have an uncle whose behavior will make his own look better.”

Jaime snorted and raised a brow. “Truly, even little Rickon is more mature than me?”

“Yes, I believe that has been the case for many years now.” Sansa’s tone was teasing, but her eyes welled with tears as she pulled Jaime into a hug. “Please stay safe.”

Moving away quickly, she walked to her siblings and Genna to say her goodbyes. Tyrion stepped before Jaime and his lips pressed into a thin line. Glancing towards Sansa, Tyrion huffed a laugh and met Jaime’s eyes. “Any pointers for tending to a newborn?”

“I find that doing whatever Brienne tells me without question, makes things easiest. That and if you refuse to set expectations for the babe’s behavior, you’ll never be disappointed.”

“Ah, lovely advice. Very strategic of you. I would expect no less.”

Dropping to a knee, Jaime pulled Tyrion into a firm embrace. “I’ll see you later little brother. Don’t fuck up my old room. I left it in perfect condition.”

“So it’s a catastrophe then? We’ll make it a trap should the wights arrive.” Tyrion chuckled and tightened his hold on Jaime. “Stay safe out there. Don’t let my goodsister do anything foolish. We need our queen safely returned as much as we need our handsomest decorative piece.”

Jaime pulled back from the embrace and feigned worry. “Will you still love me even if a wight tears off my ass? It’s Olenna’s only real hope for this war.”

Tyrion squeezed Jaime’s arm and sighed. “It’s your second-best feature after your face. It would be a shame, but I suppose we can make do.”

Stepping away, Tyrion said his goodbyes to Genna and the Starks before moving towards Brienne. The sound of Bronn’s voice from behind Jaime filled the courtyard.

“Wait ya fuckers! Ya forgot me!”

Tyrion snapped his fingers and nodded. “Ah, yes! How could I forget my squire?”

“I’m not ya damn squire, ya shit.” Bronn barked before turning to Jaime. Punching him hard in the arm, the sellsword spoke breathlessly with his meager belongings tucked under his arm. “Don’t forget all the good shit I taught ya. I don’t think them dead things give a shit about ya fancy lad training with them other knights.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yes, yes. I’ll be sure to beat them atop the head with my false hand. Try not to fall off the dragon with while holding onto all that crap.”

Bronn scoffed before rushing to catch up with Tyrion and Sansa. In the distance, Jaime could see Brienne roll her eyes at the latest addition. Tyrion had mentioned the day prior that Bronn would join them for the journey west.

_Gods. It’s going to be freezing atop that dragon. Better them than me._

Jaime watched as Brienne climbed atop the dragon and fastened herself into the custom harness. The smiths had added tethers for additional riders during the war in the event it proved necessary. Sansa moved into position behind Brienne and secured herself while Tyrion said goodbye to their father.

The words were impossible to make out from the distance, but Jaime could see both his father and Tyrion aggressively wiping their eyes when the conversation ended. Jaime dreaded his own goodbyes when the time came. The flight by dragon to the West and back would take just under a day. Brienne would likely return just in time for Jaime to depart.

Ordinarily they would depart at first light and travel as far as they could before making camp in the open field, but given limited daylight, it mattered little. At most, they had a few hours of daylight midday. Only enough light to prevent constant need for torches seemed to pass through the near permanent cloud covering.

Their group planned to ride during the night and rest during the day. Sleeping during midday afforded them the warmest sleep and safest passage north. As unlikely as threats were, shifts at lookout could see best during midday.

Once Tyrion and Bronn were atop the dragon, Brienne commanded the beast to the sky and they headed west. In the darkness, Jaime could scarcely make out their puffs of breath in the frigid air. The cries of the dragon filled the sky and grew distant as the beast departed the city.

Jaime made his way inside to spend the rest of his day with the children. He would miss them fiercely and didn’t want to consider that it might be his last day in this world with them. When he arrived at the nursery, he found them still fast asleep. The room was bathed in darkness and Jaime tried to shut the door quietly so as not to disturb them.

A small, sleepy voice from inside caught his attention before he could exit. “Father?” Little Catelyn sat upright in bed and rubbed her eyes. Even in the dim lighting, Jaime could see her blonde hair falling messily against her pale skin.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I come with you?” The little girl’s voice was hopeful, as though she might receive a treat that her brothers wouldn’t.

“I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to come lay in my bed? I’ll tell you one of your favorite stories.”

The young tot rolled out of bed and shuffled to the doorway where Jaime stood. Scooping his little girl into his arms, Jaime closed the door behind them, and he walked next door as Catelyn leaned against his chest.

As they moved inside the room, Jaime made his way towards the bed and threw back the covers. The staff had put out furs in each room to help fight off the cold, and fires were kept stoked throughout the day.

_Gods. I truly am at Winterfell._

The young girl curled up on Jaime’s side and placed her head on his chest. “The bear story.”

Jaime smiled at Catelyn’s request and began the tale. “Ah, yes. The best one. So, your mother and I had just been forced apart by the bad men. I was to come back to King’s Landing. Momma was to stay behind with the smelly man and his nasty friends.”

The girl giggled and snuggled closer. Jaime continued the tale, but soon realized that Catelyn had fallen asleep on him. Looking towards the balcony, Jaime sighed at the perpetual darkness. They remained like that for some time until the boys came looking for them.

Jaime’s day was spent indulging the children’s requests. Selwyn wished to climb, Tywin wanted stories, and Catelyn requested a spar. He played battles with the children and their wooden, toy knights. He was made to be the only human guest at a tea party for dolls. He played the role of bear, horse, and lion at various points during the day. Anything the children wanted to do, Jaime was smiled and played along.

When Brienne eventually returned well after supper, Jaime and the children were in the nursery. The triplets wanted Jaime to build a fort in the middle of their room, and it just completed when Brienne walked in.

“What do we have here?” Brienne’s inquisitive voice captured the attention of the triplets who mauled her, leaving Jaime alone and exhausted under the fort.

“We make fort, Momma!” Catelyn pulled Brienne over to the fort as the boys latched onto each of her legs. Appraising his wife, Jaime could see how exhausted Brienne was.

Flopping to the ground beside Jaime, Brienne sighed and stared up at the makeshift tent. “You’ve been busy.”

Jaime smiled as he spoke. “I’ve sparred, fought several battles, told countless tales that Tyrion no doubt knows by heart, played the part of a horse for bossy riders, had tea with a princess and princes, and built this incredible encampment.”

Brienne hummed at his side and closed her eyes. “I spent the day on the back of a dragon in frigid skies with Bronn bitching the entire way.”

“You win. Your day was worse.” Jaime chuckled as he looked to Brienne. Grabbing her hand in his, Jaime tugged Brienne closer as the children settled in around them. All five fell asleep under the fort.

A voice called out in the dark and roused Jaime from sleep. “It’s time Ser Jaime. We must ride out.” Opening his eyes and grumbling at the command, Jaime looked to his sides to find the children and Brienne still asleep.

Ser Barristan stood in the doorway; the torchlight in the hall framing his figure. “Alright. I’m coming.” Reaching to Brienne’s head, Jaime leaned down and whispered.

“I have to leave. I’ll see you at the camp soon.” Jaime didn’t want to disturb the children and say goodbye. He wanted to leave them with a pleasant memory just in case. Kissing all their little heads gently, he stood up and made his way into the hallway.

Barristan, Endrew, and Addam stood in the hallway. Extending a cloak to Jaime, Addam offered a sad smile and nodded. They made their way to the courtyard to leave for the Neck. As they exited, the remaining members of the small council stood lined up. Oberyn, Arya, and Bran were already situated atop their horses, as stable boys held the other four mounts.

Jaime said goodbye to Genna who was wiping furiously at her falling tears. “Now you come back after this! Don’t leave me to deal with your father alone.”

Giving Genna a firm hug, Jaime pulled back and quirked a brow at Olenna. Tommen and Margaery were to depart later that day with the Queen of Thorns. The young lord of Storm’s End had wanted to spend some extra time with his kin after the summit. Jaime had been pleased to get some alone time with Tommen. He worried after Tommen and grew concerned over the young man’s happiness.

Olenna scoffed at Jaime and threw out her arms as though it pained her to offer a hug. “Come on Prince Consort. Be polite and say goodbye.” With a small laugh, Jaime gave Olenna and hug, but couldn’t resist the urge to needle her. “Don’t squeeze my ass now.”

The older woman swatted him away and scoffed. Before Jaime moved, she grabbed his arm. A concerned look flashed across her face and she glanced sideways before meeting his gaze. “Be careful out there. Your little ones need you.” Jaime knew that it was the closest he would get to Olenna admitted that she cared to see him live.

When Jaime came to Selwyn, he felt himself pulled into a firm embrace. The island of a man engulfed Jaime and squeezed tightly. “Be safe. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do. And remember your dagger!”

Jaime laughed and nodded. Coming to stand before Tywin, Jaime prepared himself for the litany of instructions. _Stay alive. Don’t do anything stupid. Watch over Brienne._

Instead, Jaime was surprised to see Tywin’s eyes water. His father pulled him into a firm hug and spoke in hushed tones. “I love you, son.”

_Gods damnit. I would have preferred the annoying reminders. Now I’ll have to explain my tears as resultant from the damn cold._

Struggling to meet Tywin’s eyes when they stepped back from the unexpected embrace, Jaime nodded and swallowed thickly. “Yes, well… don’t forget how to row should the need arise. And I love you too… and all that.”

Tywin snorted and pushed Jaime forward. “Go on then. Go make me proud.”

Approaching his horse, Jaime’s progress was halted by the sound of tiny shouts. Turning back towards the castle, the triplets came running outside without proper attire on. Brienne was moving quickly behind them and shouting for them to get inside.

With watery eyes and a wide smile, Jaime knelt to meet his children as they ran to him barefoot. The triplets offered him casual goodbyes as though he was going for a morning ride. “Bye bye papa.” Holding them a moment longer than he usually would, Jaime reminded the tots to behave and listen to their mother.

Before the children could see Jaime’s pain at leaving them, he mounted his horse and sent a sorrowful look back to Brienne as she scooped them up. Selwyn and Genna came over to help her and Brienne met his eyes with little more than a nod. He would see her soon at the Neck. Gods willing, he would see the rest of them not long thereafter.


	8. Close to the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The living all arrive north and have their first encounter with the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The end of this chapter has a flashback to a traumatic birth. The baby lives and is healthy, but I want to warn so anyone wishing to avoid can do so.

Brienne arrived at the Twins and was immediately handed a sealed missive from Casterly Rock. She knew that the letter likely contained word from Tyrion concerning Sansa and the babe. Waiting as patiently as possible for Jaime to arrive on horseback, Brienne paced the courtyard.

Just an hour earlier, the dragonriders had flown ahead to the Twins after following the riders for over a week. When the seven riders came into view, Brienne ran to greet Jaime, waving the missive excitedly. They opened the letter together and read the news.

A wide smile spread across Brienne’s face at the contents of the letter. Sansa was well after birthing a healthy girl. The heir to Casterly Rock. Joanna Lannister. Jaime chuckled and draped an arm over Brienne’s shoulders. “The Throne and the Rock are to be held by strong, Lannister women. We’ll train our niece as we’re training Catelyn. My niece…”

Jaime drifted off in thought and Brienne knew that his mind was with Myrcella. He had been pleased to spend time with Tommen before the war, but Jaime lamented not having seen Myrcella in some time. Brienne hoped that after the war they could visit the girl.

Looking to the young Starks, Brienne smiled warmly. “Your sister has birthed…”

“A healthy baby girl. Lady Joanna Lannister.” Bran’s flat tone cutoff Brienne’s words. Arya snorted at Bran’s side as he was placed in his wheelchair. The young warrior looked to Brienne and Jaime and raised a brow.

“Bran told me days ago. I think it’s bullshit. I thought they might name her Arya.”

By the time all the living were at the Neck, the dead were a fortnight out. They had slightly less time than they thought, but fortunately, the living had been preparing for years. Jaime had devised a sound plan despite disliking elements of it.

The Twins would be used as a base to receive and send communication to the evacuation point and King’s Landing. Between the Twins and Greywater Watch, the living had spent the past two years digging trenches that stretched from the eastern coast at The Bite, to the woods that lined the western coast.

Alchemists had been dispatched to the Twins to produce wildfire. The flammable substance would be poured into the trenches before the dead arrived. When the Night King moved his army into the Neck and their frontlines reached the southernmost trench, the dragonriders would take to the skies to light the trenches. Given the distance between the Twins and Greywater Watch, much of the dead’s army would be caught in the flames.

Jaime’s hope was that any dead remaining would be easily outnumbered by the living. By setting the dead aflame with wildfire, the Night King would be unable to raise them again.

They were aware that the White Walkers were impervious to flame, and the council assumed the Night King to be as well, but it was unknown if a flame as strong as wildfire or dragon fire would kill the creatures. If not, they had more than enough men to kill whatever threat remained. Or so, they thought.

Now as the living stood in formation before the dead, every set of eyes filled with life stared north. A heavy silence fell over the ranks of living men and women prepared to fight against their common enemy. Brienne considered the irony of the situation.

The living stood wordless and motionless. Were it not for the arctic breeze blowing through their hair, nothing about them would have stirred. Puffs of breath kissing the air were the only indication that theirs was the living army.

Unlike them, the dead walked. Unlike them, the Walkers screeched unintelligible commands. In the distance, the outline of giants and ice spiders dotted the horizon. Light had no place in Westeros for the past moon. The only way to tell the passage of time was the position of stars on infrequent clear nights.

As the shadows grew near, Brienne looked to Daenerys and Jon. There would be no fighting today. The dead had no idea that their burning bodies would bring light back to Westeros. It was likely that the dead spent the last week crawling in and out of wildfire filled trenches with little awareness of what the substance was.

With a nod, the three Targaryens moved to their dragons and took to the skies. It was the first sound from the living’s ranks in hours. Keeping enough distance between the dragons and wight giants, the dragons flew in parallel paths and spewed dragon fire onto the trenches and dead below.

When the trenches caught, it sent an instant warmth into the air that made the proximity to Viserion’s mouth feel more like a winter bleeze than scorching flame. Brienne’s eyes widened at the sight of the dead army below. She had never seen such a large army nor such horrors.

Passing over a giant wight, the creature looked to her and Brienne noted the missing eye and shredded skin slipping off its face as flames consumed its body. Ice spiders shrieked as their riders joined them in a pool of fire. Dead men, women, and children, in various stages of decay cried out in high pitched wails as wildfire engulfed them.

The bright flames of wildfire illuminated the landscape like the rising sun. Stretching on for eternity, the dead’s numbers suggested that the Night King had not lay dormant as long as the living thought. He had been building his army for longer than anyone could have known.

At the rear of the lines, Brienne saw him. The Night King and his generals sat atop dead horses, watching them. Daenerys, Brienne, and Jon continued their path forward as the dragons’ ensured every trench burned bright green. A chill ran down Brienne’s spine at the sight of the Night King and his generals.

They looked to the approaching dragonriders with disinterest at best. Brienne narrowed her eyes at the undead creature and held tighter to Viserion. She willed the creature to target the Night King, hoping to end the war before a single wight could reach a living soldier.

At their approach to the row of Whites Walkers, Brienne felt her heartrate increase. As dragon fire touched down on their targets, Brienne’s head whipped behind her as she commanded Viserion to circle around.

The dragon made a long sweep around the area and Brienne’s eyes search the field below. As the dragon’s flames petered out, the White Walkers and the Night King stood staring at them. Their horses burned on the ground, finally finding eternal rest; they however stood tall.

Then the Night King met Brienne’s eyes. Even from afar, he seemed to look deep into her soul. A small smile tugged at his lips as his knelt and touched the ground with one hand. At the movement, a sudden storm moved in from the north.

A wall of blinding, white flurries blew in aggressively. Viserion shuddered below her and Brienne felt as though her lungs would freeze at her next breath. As the dragon began its flight south, Brienne felt her hands go numb and turn a frightening shade of blue. Looking quickly left and right, Brienne made out the outline of Drogon and Rhaegal.

Tucking her body as close to Viserion as possible, Brienne closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Her entire body felt as thought it was slowly freezing in place, rendering her motionless. Tears from the cold wind began to freeze to Brienne’s lashes and cheeks.

_Gods. I’m going to die frozen to the back of a fire breathing dragon._

Viserion neared the burning trenches of wildfire and a slight warmth touched Brienne’s body. She kept low against Viserion, but turned her head to see the rear lines of wildfire flickering out as the cold front reached the area.

_Seven hells. Even the wildfire can’t keep the cold at bay._

It was a battle between fire and ice. Ice was winning. Brienne’s body began to convulse from cold and she forced her head forward. In the distance, she could see the ranks of the living. The further south they went, the stronger the wildfire burned.

_We don’t have enough. We’ll still need to fight._

By her estimate, at least half the Night King’s army was already incinerated. Another quarter of his army was engulfed in flames, shrieking and flailing as though reaching for the incoming cold front.

The remaining quarter of the Night King’s army was caught between rows of flaming trenches, but not yet kissed by fire. The creatures seemed to stumble forward unintelligently, not realizing the awaiting threat.

Slowly the dead slipped away from view as the ranks of the living entered over the horizon. Viserion quickly touched down near Drogon and Rhaegal. Brienne could barely hear anything except screaming. The soldiers on the ground were calling for aid.

“The queen! The dragonriders! They’re near frozen to death! The dragons are dying!”

Everything seemed a blur. Brienne’s body was so numb that she barely felt hands on her body and someone unbuckling her from the harness. Opening her mouth to speak, Brienne panicked when no sound escaped.

Then she saw wildfire staring back at her. Green eyes. Jaime’s eyes. “Brienne! Fucking hells! She’s blue!”

Brienne was being moved off the dragon and a familiar pair of arms held her close. Jaime’s arms. She didn’t need to feel much to know his grip. Brienne’s head rolled to the side and backwards. She could scarcely see someone carrying Daenerys.

_Ser Addam. Where is Jon? Did someone get Jon?_

At the loss of riders, the dragons took off south; desperate for warmth. The dragons’ struggle to take flight was obvious. The great beasts stumbled forward, barely able to lift themselves to the sky.

Watching the beasts, it was then Brienne realized how heavy her chest felt. A pressure was building that she couldn’t explain, but she imagined it was how one would feel being crushed to death by a giant wight.

As they passed the rows of living soldiers, Brienne noted the never-ending sea of eyes on her. Jaime carried her south; away from the green flames and burning death. Ser Barristan parted the men for Jaime as Ser Endrew followed Jaime closely. Ser Addam was not far behind and carrying Daenerys. It appeared someone was carrying Jon too, but Brienne could hardly see.

Time seemed as frozen as Brienne’s body. She had no idea how long Jaime carried her, but soon it was no longer men they passed, but tents. As Jaime turned into one tent, Brienne felt herself lowered to the ground. Jaime, Barristan, and Endrew began rapidly removing her armor and Jaime’s armor.

_Body heat. Do I truly look that bad? They treat me as though I feel into a frozen lake._

When their armor was removed, Brienne watched as Endrew retreated from the tent, only to return movements later with several furs tucked under his arms.

Hushed words were exchanged between Jaime and Barristan before the Queensguard left the tent. Jaime quickly disrobed himself and Brienne down to smallclothes and placed the furs over them. Pulling Brienne close, the warmth of Jaime’s skin sent a jolt through Brienne. It was like dropping a piece of ice into steaming water.

“You’re alright, Brienne. Breathe. Deep breaths. Think of warm things. Like Tarth. Dorne. The Dothraki Sea.”

_Warm things. Love. The children. You._

Jaime pulled Brienne closer; his lips brushing against her frozen nose as he continued speaking to her. Despite a desire to stay awake and tell Jaime what she saw, Brienne felt her body shutting down. Her eyelids grew heavy as her body began to shake with cold.

Brienne slipped into unconsciousness and the world went blacker than the sky before the wildfire ignited. When she opened her eyes, she was back in a sun-filled room in King’s Landing. Her body was drenched in sweat and an intense pain took hold of her.

She looked down and saw her swollen belly. Two babes were being looked over by the midwife and Genna. Olenna stood beside Grandmaester Pycelle.

“Gods, man. What do you mean there is a third!? She just birthed two! There is nothing left in her to push anymore!”

Olenna scolded the aged maester as he shook his head. With a deep sigh, Pycelle reached up and gripped one of Brienne’s hand. Her body felt like it was aflame, and Brienne barely registered his touch.

“Your Grace. I need you to stay strong a while longer. There is one babe yet to come. This one faces the wrong way and I need to turn it.”

_I can’t. I can’t breathe. I’m dying. Just get it out._

Olenna ran to the basin and soaked another cloth before yelling to Genna. “The water isn’t cold enough! Of all the damn times to not be in the North!”

Genna rushed to Olenna’s side with a screaming babe in her arms. “This one won’t stop roaring! Take the babe. I’ll tend to Brienne.”

Extending her arms, Genna handed off the babe to Olenna. Almost immediately, the babe settled, and a victorious smile spread across Olenna’s face. “There you are. You just don’t wish to be a Lannister. You’re a Tarth little one. Don’t worry. That wretched lioness is away now.”

_Selwyn. That babe will be Selwyn._

Genna came to Brienne’s shoulder and placed another damp cloth across her brows. “Come on my girl. You’re almost there. You’ve done well. Better than most. Stay with us.”

The midwife came to Pycelle’s side and said something that Brienne could barely hear. She could focus on nothing except the heat and the pain. It felt as though someone was sitting on her lungs and tearing her lower body to shreds.

The babe in the midwife’s arms was quiet. Barely a sound left the babe’s lips as the midwife continued her conversation with the Grandmaester. Her firstborn son. He seemed to be appraising the midwife; a slight furrow to his brows.

_Little Tywin._

When Jaime and Brienne discussed names, they both wished to honor their fathers. Thinking they would have one babe, they agreed to let the personality decide should the babe emerge a boy. A loud babe would be Selwyn. A quiet babe would be Tywin.

_It seems we got one of each. We will both have our wish._

The girl’s name came easier. If the babe emerged a girl, they meant to honor the woman who brought them together. Lady Catelyn. Brienne wondered who would greet her next.

They had not discussed a third boy’s name. They only bothered discussing boy names at her insistence. Jaime was convinced they would have a girl.

“The babe won’t turn. This one is content to jump out feet first. Gods damnit!” Pycelle muttered and the midwife’s eyes went wide with worry. Looing to Genna, the midwife spoke urgently.

“My lady, please. Take this babe. I need to help the Grandmaester.”

Genna rushed away from Brienne’s side and took hold of the babe that would become little Tywin. Panic kept Brienne from passing out. She could not rest until she knew the fate of her third babe.

After some tense moments, the babe emerged. This one was small and its color poor. The babe did not cry, and its lips were blue. The cord was wrapped tightly as Pycelle worked to free the babe.

His eyes were downcast before he spoke. “A girl your Grace. I’m sorry, but… she does not breathe.”

_No. Not my babe._

Before Brienne’s brain fully processed the words, her arms were outstretched. She had not yet had a chance to hold the boys, but she would hold her girl. The midwife and Grandmaester looked uncertain, but did as their queen bid.

The small girl was placed against Brienne’s sweat slick chest. Brienne struggled to breathe between the heat and her choked sobs. Tears fell from her face to the tiny babe. Brienne’s left hand instinctively rubbed at the babe’s back as her right arm held the babe close.

Olenna and Genna each stood with a babe in their arms; sorrow etched on their faces. At her side, Pycelle took a cloth to the little girl while trying to assess her face. His brows knitted together as he studied the babe and tried to encourage the babe’s breathing.

Then Brienne felt a small puff at her chest. Little blue eyes fluttered opened and stared at her. Catelyn sucked in another shallow breath.

“Yes, good girl. There she is. Stay with your Mother, little one.” Pycelle’s elderly voice filled the silent room. He turned and said something to the midwife, but all Brienne could focus on was her babe. Her Catelyn.

_She’s alive. She’ll be alright. I won’t let anything happen to her. My little fighter._

Pycelle met Brienne’s eyes and smiled. “A mother’s love. She’ll be alright, but her body temperature and breathing need to regulate. Hold her close to the heart, your Grace.”

Brienne heard a voice in her ear. Bran’s voice. “Don’t forget. Close to the heart. It will push the cold away. Push death away.”

At the words, Brienne’s eyes flew open. She was staring at Jaime’s neck as he held her close to his chest. His hand covered the back of her head and Brienne’s eyes darted around.

_The tent. I’m in a tent at the Neck. ‘Close to the heart. It will push the cold away. Push death away.’ I need to remember._

Brienne’s voice finally found her. “Jaime.”


	9. The Voice of the Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wildfire dies out and the living face the dead.

Jaime paced inside the tent. The dragonriders sat clothed and draped in furs as they sipped hot soup. Just hours ago, each arrived on the back of a dragon nearly frozen to death. It was as though they swam through the waters in the Shivering Sea in naught but their smallclothes, only to immediately take flight thereafter on the back of dragons.

_I almost lost her. My sword has yet to taste the enemy’s blood, and my wife nearly met the Stranger._

“Are the trenches still burning, Ser Endrew?”

“Yes, Ser Jaime. From what the men can see, the three trenches nearest our lines are holding the dead back. The rest seem to be fading or have… gone out. I’m not certain how. We set enough wildfire for the trenches to remain ablaze for at least a day.”

Brienne sighed and met Jaime’s eyes. “I saw it, Jaime. The Night King. He knelt and touched the ground. Then… this bitter cold came. It snuffed out the flames.”

Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. _How can cold winds snuff out wildfire?_

“Ser Endrew, keep half the men at the frontlines. The rest should get rest and eat. Then they’ll change shifts.” Jaime’s voice was thick with exhaustion. He wasn’t physically tired so much as emotionally. Holding his wife in his arms as her body thawed, was like watching her come back from death. He half expected her eyes to flash open with that eerie shade of blue that he saw in the eyes of the dead.

Endrew bowed and left the tent. Looking back to the three Targaryens before him, Jaime spoke to no one in particular.

“If the Night King can nearly freeze a dragon with a cold breeze alone, I fear what he can do to our men. The dragons haven’t return yet. They’re likely halfway to Essos and I can’t say that I blame them.”

Daenerys shook her head in refute. “No. They won’t leave us. They’ve gone to recover, but they will never abandon us.”

“Well who am I to argue with the Master of Dragons?” Jaime’s voice dripped with sarcasm as his eyes met Daenerys’ violet set.

Before Daenerys could reply, Jaime looked to Barristan. “Ser Barristan, until their dragons return, they’ll need guards. They’re not fit for battle.”

“That might be the first reasonable thing I’ve heard you say in two years.” Daenerys snorted and took a sip of her soup. Her kin did not share her opinion of Jaime’s words.

“What!? No! I’m fighting with the rest of you.” Brienne’s eyes stared defiantly at Jaime. Before bringing all the Targaryens together, they had fought over her condition. Jaime wanted Brienne to rest. Brienne wanted to fight with the army.

Jon’s words echoed Brienne’s sentiment. “Aye. I’ll fight with the rest of the army too. We both have Valyrian steel and are as capable as anyone out there. Lady Daenerys should stay with Bran and the men guarding him.”

With a shrug of defeat, Ser Barristan met Jaime’s eyes. “I cannot defy our Queen, Ser Jaime. If she wishes to fight, I will be at her side.”

A victorious smile curled at Brienne’s lips and she stood from her seated position. “I’m going to stand among our people now.”

“Can you at least wear your bloody armor, Brienne!?” Jaime’s question was more a statement as their eyes locked in a challenge. With a conciliatory nod, Brienne moved to the back of the tent and began to fasten her armor.

Jaime moved to help her and sighed as he caught Brienne’s eye. A wordless exchange passed between them. They would not leave each other during this fight. If they died, they would die together.

Walking quickly from the tent, Jaime and Brienne moved silently to the front of the lines. Surprised eyes greeted them, as the soldiers appraised their queen. Jaime glanced around and realized the crowd that Brienne was attracting.

A renewed hope filled the soldiers’ eyes as their queen stepped confidently towards the front of the lines. The army of the living bowed their heads at the queen’s return, and the men sent for respite slowly filed back into formation. No one would rest tonight. They stood together.

Jaime’s hand brushed against Brienne’s as they neared the front lines. Reaching their destination, Jaime watched as his wife looked defiantly at the wights. The dead stood silently behind the burning wildfire trenches. Green flames danced around unnatural blue eyes.

As the living looked north at the opposing ranks, Jaime noticed the wildfire flames begin to flicker in the wind. The flames seemed weaker than they had just hours earlier.

_This won’t last this night. The dead will press on._

As if reading his mind, Brienne unsheathed her sword and began to pace before the army while staring at the dead.

_Gods. She looks ready to kill. Selwyn would be proud._

Drawing his own sword, Jaime stepped forward as Brienne stopped pacing. They stood in solidary a few feet before the first row of living soldiers. At his back, Jaime heard a familiar voice. Ser Endrew. More to himself than those around him, Endrew began singing Jenny’s Song.

Slowly, more voices filled the night sky until the entire army was singing the familiar song. Jaime smiled inwardly as he considered the song. A song about the woman who wed Prince Duncan. The prince who gave up his crown for love. The couple who perished in the great fire. The prince’s line was believed dead in that fiery blaze until just over two years ago.

Now Jaime’s love, Prince Duncan’s granddaughter, stood beside him. The prince’s line survived the Tragedy of Summerhall. If Jaime’s objective was realized, the prince’s line would survive the Long Night too. Neither fire nor ice would claim Prince Duncan’s line.

The more the wildfire flames dwindled, the louder the voices of living soldiers became. It was a somber song, but it somehow felt defiant. Barristan and Endrew stepped forward to stand beside Jaime and Brienne. Then Addam stepped forward. He looked to Jaime and smiled as the last line of Jenny’s Song ended. Then Addam started a new song. The Rains of Castamere.

For most of Jaime’s life, that song meant the downfall of House Reyne at the hands of his father. Cersei boasted after the Red Wedding, that the song would serve as a reminder of what would befall enemies of House Lannister. Anyone facing the lions would meet the Stranger.

Jaime swore that he would never allow the song to be used again. Instructions were given to the West’s army to do away with the cursed ballad. Jaime would ensure that the Rains of Castamere faded into history with the rest of House Lannister’s offenses.

Then Jaime heard it being sung around campfires at the Neck as the living awaited the dead. Rage pooled in Jaime’s gut and he turned on heel to reprimand the man leading the song.

They were a united Westeros now, and Jaime wouldn’t allow the song to reach the ears of Northerners and Tully soldiers who were so grievously impacted by it. As he began to bark at the man, the Blackfish grabbed Jaime’s arm and yanked him backwards.

“Don’t, Kingslayer! It isn’t your song anymore. Its ours now. The living. _Our_ Lannister queen will lead the destruction of the dead. So, will you. I expect to see you made a kingslayer twice over when this war is done.”

Looking back to the group around the campfire, Jaime realized it then. The man leading the song was a Tully man. He sat around the fire with men from all kingdoms. They sang together with seeming disregard for the song’s vile origins and the hurtful acts it boasted.

Staring back at the dead, Jaime remembered Ser Brynden’s words. House Lannister would lead the fall of the dead. He heard the loud voices of the living soldiers at his back.

This song was not somber. This song was boastful. This song was now the living’s war cry for their lioness leading them into battle to destroy the Night King; their shared enemy.

The green flames that once stood at eye level, now fell into the trenches. Flickering flames kissed the edges of the manmade ditches. Still, the dead waited until the trenches no longer burned green. From the corner of his eye, Jaime saw something move. One of the dead fell forward; its arms outstretched to the other side of the trench.

Further down the line, another wight performed the same action. Their bodies caught fire and they shrieked as the flames nipped at their decaying bodies. Before Jaime could turn to Brienne and comment on it, a wight walked across the manmade bridge. More wights fell forward and stretched their arms out. The dead behind them surged forward.

_Gods. This is madness. They’re sacrificing themselves to march forward._

The Queensguard unsheathed their swords as Jaime and Brienne raised their blades to meet the dead. The sound of weapons moving to the ready position at Jaime’s back was as loud as the voices continuing to sing.

With every step forward by the dead, the living’s voices grew louder. Raising his sword high, Jaime whispered to Brienne. “Time to get our juices flowing, my lady.” 

His eyes shifted sideways to Brienne. A smirk pulled at her features as she continued looking ahead. “I hope you’re not as slow as I remember.”

Then the dead were at their swords. The fighting seemed to go on for an eternity. Hours passed and the dead kept coming. Jaime’s sword sliced through wights with little thought. He felt Brienne’s movements more than he saw them. Fighting beside Brienne was always different than fighting against her.

They moved as one; their bodies seemingly an extension of each other. When his sword fell short of its mark, hers was there. When a threat came at her blind side, Jaime’s blade removed the intrusion. The Queensguard moved around them and kept as many wights away as they could from their sovereigns, but Jaime and Brienne hardly needed the protection.

The living army at their backs surged forward. Soon, Jaime and Brienne found themselves at the middle of the ranks rather than leading it. They were winning. They had the numbers. They had the stronger resolve. They had life.

_The wildfire did its job in removing most of the threat. We will win this._

As the dead were beaten back, their bodies filled the trenches and snuffed out any remnant flames. Jaime’s eyes darted to the rear of the field. He searched for the line of White Walkers and the Night King as Brienne described them.

All Jaime could see were rows of falling wights. The living’s dragonglass weapons and handful of valyrian steel blades did their job.

_Where is he? Where is the Night King?_

The outline of a wight giant came into view and Jaime felt his breath catch. Looking up to the sky, Jaime gasped at the size of the creature. Before he could act, a living giant thrust a massive spear made of dragonglass into its dead counterpart. The wight fell to the ground and crushed several living soldiers under its weight. The land shook at the creature’s fall and Jaime stumbled backwards.

Wights jumped onto the giant’s legs, attempting to climb it. Then the familiar cry of Tormund Giantsbane filled the air, calling or aid. Wildings rushed in to fell the wights climbing atop their brethren.

_Gods. Now I’ve seen it all._

Jaime’s arms grew heavy from exertion. Soon, less wights were to be found in the field. The rotting corpses lay unmoving at the feet of the living. Cries of victory rang out among the living forces, but Jaime knew better.

_We haven’t won the war. We’ve won the battle._

As the living gathered themselves, Jaime considered their situation. _We have nothing to burn the bodies._

Turning to Brienne, Jaime leaned in and voiced his concern. They had planned to use the dragons to torch the dead.

With a labored breath, Brienne met Jaime’s eyes and nodded. Her face and armor were covered in gore and her eyes were heavy. “This wasn’t all of them. I think the Night King pulled back most of his remaining army. At least a quarter were untouched by the wildfire earlier. Another quarter was aflame, but if the fire was snuffed out before consuming them, they were likely raised again. He’ll raise these too.”

Brienne looked down at their feet. Most of the fallen were wights, but some of the living died as well. More men for the Night King’s army if they couldn’t burn the bodies quickly enough.

Calling out to the generals, Jaime instructed them to have the soldiers move the dead towards the nearest trench. They would burn the bodies by way of torch and pray it was enough.

Sheathing his sword, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s free hand and tugged her back towards the encampment. “You need rest, Brienne. Let the soldiers clean this shit up.”

Jaime heard the distant commands of their generals. Their voices filled the night sky, commanding the foot soldiers to move the dead and reminding them that the battle was far from won. Looking to Brienne, Jaime could see how fatigued she was.

At Jaime’s back, Ser Barristan ordered one of the foot soldiers to build up the campfires and bring torches to the men in the field. When they arrived at their tent, Jaime urged Brienne inside, but she took pause. Following her eyeline, Jaime saw Barristan and Endrew stand guard at their tent.

With a heavy sigh, Brienne moved to them. “Ser Barristan. Ser Endrew. You both must rest. We’re more than safe here.”

“You Grace, it is the duty of the Queensguard to…”

Brienne cutoff Barristan before he could continue. “You can’t guard me if you keel over from lack of rest. We just fought a battle. Everyone is tired and covered in… whatever this shit is. I happen to have a former Kingsguard for a husband. I’m certain he can perform his prior duties and keep me safe while you both take rest.”

Jaime snorted and raised a brow at the two Queensguard. “I swear to do a better job guarding her than I did Aerys.”

Groaning at his ill-timed japed, Brienne looked to the sky and closed her eyes. She muttered under her breath and looked to the Queensguard. “If I run him through with my sword tonight, I’ll seek your aid in helping me move his body to the trenches.”

Barristan bit back a laugh and bowed. “Your Grace. We’ll take rest in the tent next to yours.” At the Lord Commander’s words, Endrew visibly relaxed. Jaime could tell that the Tarth knight was eager for rest and to clean off the gore lining his face and armor.

Grabbing Brienne’s hand once more, Jaime pulled her inside. No certain amount of rest was guaranteed during war. Jaime intended to use every moment they had sleeping in one another’s arms.

They quickly removed their armor and set it in the corner. Whatever variety of fluids were smeared across their armor would have to wait for cleaning until their bodies were washed. Standing over the basin of water in the corner of their tent, Jaime and Brienne helped clean the gore from each other’s hair and face.

When they were clean enough for rest, both moved under the furs in the middle of the tent. The camp volume was low. Voices of passing soldiers were the only indication that many remained awake and vigilant. Pulling Brienne close, Jaime kissed her lips and smiled. “You still grimace when you lunge.”

Brienne chuckled lightly before yawning. “Do try to shut up for a bit so we can rest.” She nuzzled close and threw an arm over Jaime’s chest. Unlike hours earlier when her frozen face was pressed close, only warmth radiated from her now.

Brienne’s breathing soon fell into a rhythmic pattern, indicating to Jaime that she found sleep. He was pleased that she was resting but his own mind was filled with an array of thoughts.

_I almost lost her hours earlier. Two years of planning, and she was almost gone within the first hour of war._

The situation frustrated Jaime. The plan seemed strong enough and according to what the dragonriders observed form the sky, it had been effective.

Two years ago, when Jon and Daenerys flew over the army of the dead, they estimated more than 100,000 wights. Days earlier, Bran estimated the Night King’s army closer to 200,000. They dead had been busy indeed over the past two years. Brienne said she had never seen an army so large before. She said that they seemed to stretch on forever.

_How did they get so many? Did they raise dead from crypts and graves in the North along the way? Surely the bodies would be little more than bones._

Jaime considered the size of the dead’s army.

_By Brienne’s count, flames consumed half the dead, leaving their numbers around 100,000. That is closer to our own count of living soldiers. Another quarter were consumed by flames when Brienne saw them last. They should only have 50,000-100,000 remaining, but after that battle their numbers will be reduced more._

Jaime’s inability to appraise the enemy’s numbers vexed him. In the darkness, he didn’t have a sense for how many they lost in the last battle. The current numbers remaining in both armies eluded him. It was an army commander’s worst nightmare; fighting blind.

Despite all the worrisome thoughts, Jaime felt his lids grow heavy. The last thing he saw before sleep found him, was Brienne’s blonde locks falling softly over her face. He dreamed of their little family. Of Selwyn climbing everything. Of Tywin with his mound of books. Of Catelyn knocking all the boys into the dust. Of Brienne. Her beautiful eyes and warm smile.

The sound of clanging steel and the feel of bitter cold roused Jaime. As his eyes flew open, so did Brienne’s. Without a word, both jumped to their feet and grabbed their swords. Standing in naught by their tunics and breeches, both rushed outside the tent. Looking to his side, Jaime saw Barristan and Endrew emerge from their slumber as well. Slowly, other living soldiers stepped out into the dark, freezing landscape just north of the Twins.

In the distance, the sound of clashing blades and men screaming faded. Then, a deadly silence fell over the land. A shiver ran down Jaime’s spine as an unbearable arctic wind blew through the camp. In the distance, a massive snow squall approached. Emerging from the snow were bright, blue eyes.

_Gods. They’re back and they’ve added to their numbers._


	10. Through Animal Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next battle is seen through various sets of eyes as Bran tries to understand what is happening and find aid.

Bran flew over the living as the dead were moved into the trenches. Piles of fallen soldiers and wights were stacked high in the designated areas. Near the encampment, Bran observed foot soldiers bringing torches to the men stacking the bodies.

In absence of dragons, they would light the cloth garments of the dead and pray it would catch well enough to hold the flames. Bran had attempted tracking the dragons earlier that night. When the dragonriders returned to the army nearly frozen to death, Bran tried to follow the dragons’ retreat.

They had flown south to warm their bodies, and his host’s small wings could not keep pace. The dragons were not made for such inhospitable temperatures, and the storm the Night King summoned nearly killed the great beasts.

Bran had not anticipated that ability from the Night King. He had been tracking the creature for some time, and Bran looked into the past to study the Night King’s prior interactions with man. Never before had the Night King displayed such raw power.

In past battles that Bran observed, the Night King used a different array of skills to overpower the enemy. Bran had seen the creature use storms to cover his army’s march, but never had Bran noted such extreme temperature changes.

Now as Bran looked down at the field below, he watched as the torches reached the men near the trenches. Roughly three trenches were filled to the brim with dead bodies. By Bran’s estimate, the Night King had lost 40,000 of a remaining 80,000 wights in the ground battle with the living. The living had lost roughly 20,000 men in the battle.

The remaining 40,000 wights had been pulled back during the battle. Bran was unable to track where they went or why. The Night King and his generals were equally elusive during the fight. During the battle, a heavy snow squall moved in at the rear lines of the Night King’s army. The cloud covering and winds impeded Bran’s view from the sky.

Further, the raven hosting Bran could not venture closer to the squall. It was too cold for the bird’s body, so Bran instead remained over the southernmost fighting. As he looked down at the field, Bran watched the bodies begin to catch fire as the torches were thrown onto the piles of dead.

Circling lower, Bran studied the progress of the flames. The living began to walk back towards the encampment to find rest. Before they could get far, another storm moved in. As occurred earlier, Bran had to move south before his host’s body succumbed to the brutal cold.

_This isn’t going to work. I need a different host._

Bran’s eyes rolled forward and he stared ahead at the flaps of the tent. Arya lay sleeping at his side and he spoke to get her attention.

“Arya. You need to wake up now. The dead are here.”

Arya sat upright and rubbed at her eyes. Her voice was heavy with sleep. “What? What’s going on?”

Bran shook his head and looked down to her. “Something is wrong. The dead are back.”

Then they heard it. The sounds of clashing weapons and men’s screams. Arya jumped to her feet and threw on her boots. As she prepared for battle, an idea came to Bran’s mind.

_Ghost. Jon had the direwolf at the camp with the wildling contingent while he rode on the back of Rhaegal._

Taking a deep breath, Bran concentrated on the task at hand. “I need to go now.” The young man’s eyes rolled towards the back of his head. When Bran next opened his eyes, he was in Ghost’s body.

The direwolf moved from its position in the tent beside Jon who was just rousing. Bolting from the tent, Bran urged Ghost forward towards the trenches. Living men were rapidly fleeing the area with horrified looks on their faces. Running into the squall, Bran moved through the vicious wind and bitter cold.

Once inside the area blanketed by the storm, Bran saw him. The Night King stood in the distance. The creature’s arms raised in an eerily familiar motion.

_The flames have been snuffed out again. He is raising the dead._

Living men caught between the trenches had their dragonglass weapons drawn shakily. They were desperately fighting the White Walkers and the previously missing 40,000 wights. The White Walkers were ferocious and easily cut through the living.

The living soldiers cried out for aid. Their blood spilled onto the snow-covered field below and their dragonglass weapons shattered on impact under the White Walker’s frosty blades.

Slowly, more and more dead stood from the piles of bodies piled in the trenches. The newly raised dead stood motionless; eyes glowing bright blue. After momentary pause, the newly raised dead entered the fray.

Bran estimated some 10,000 living had been caught behind the trenches. As they fell, they soon stood and added to the Night King’s ranks. Bran recognized some of the men who fell.

Men from the North who had guarded Bran since his return to Winterfell. Many of those men had wives and children that had been sent south for refuge. When no life remained to oppose the spread of death, the Night King’s army stood silently before turning south.

Backing up slowly in Ghost’s body, Bran glanced to the Night King. The creature’s arms fell to his side and abruptly, the Night King’s eyes snapped to Ghost. Realization hit Bran.

_He sees me. He knows I’m here._

Guiding Ghost back through the rows of dead, Bran realized that he was being targeted. Wights began to swing their weapons at his body. Dodging and jumping out of harms way, Bran urged Ghost forward faster.

The direwolf’s breathing labored as the animal strained in the cold to get back to the encampment. Nearing the last trench, Bran prepared to leap into the air and over the ditch, but a sharp pain spread through his hind leg.

The direwolf fell with a whimper and Bran observed the deep slice through the animal’s leg. The wight that struck him lumbered forward and raised his blade again. Willing the animal up, Bran moved out of the way just in time.

With the injury to the direwolf’s leg, Bran was unable to jump over the trench. Rounding on the wight, Bran sank his fangs into the creature. The wight clawed furiously at Ghost’s back, but Bran forced the animal’s jaw tighter and shook his head furiously.

Another wight approached to Bran’s side. Releasing the wight from Ghost’s jaw, Bran urged the direwolf east along the trench’s edge before other wights could reach him.

_I must find an area to cross without the need to jump._

When Bran put enough distance between himself and the dead, he looked back at the army. The dead again made their way across the trenches. With the wildfire extinguished, the creatures moved down into the trenches and emerged on the other side.

Finding a slight rise to the landscape, Bran urged Ghost upwards so that he could appraise the battle. Throngs of living soldiers rushed to engage the dead. They had not expected another attack that night after an apparent victory. Many were without armor and proper attire.

Bran could scarcely make out some of their best fighters entering the battle. Tormund led the Wildlings into the field. The lone living giant was at the forefront and quickly cutting down the wights. Arya fought alongside the Baratheon bastard and some soldiers from the Stormlands.

Further in the distance, Bran could see Jaime and Brienne felling wights with the Queensguard at their back. They too lacked their armor. Many of the living soldiers flocked to their queen and prince consort. A desperate need to keep their sovereigns alive drove the men to face the dead without second thought for their own survival.

Jon and Jorah ran forward with swords drawn. They shouted commands to the men at their backs. The battle was chaotic and far less organized than the last. The approach played more to the wights style than the preferred formations of the living. 

With no objective other than survival, the living were sloppier than the last battle. More of their soldiers began to fall and unlike the previous engagement, the White Walkers remained in the field. In a panic, Bran realized what the White Walkers were doing. They were targeting the living’s best fighters.

_The first battle was for their benefit. They must have watched to identify key targets._

Bran considered his options. If he remained in the direwolf’s body, he could safely guide Ghost around the trench and back to the living encampment. Doing so would mean less aid to the living. Bran had to leave Ghost’s body. The direwolf would need to find its own way.

Breaking the connection to Ghost, Bran’s eyes rolled forward and he was back in the tent.

_I have to find the dragons._

Bran’s eyes rolled back, and he was again in the body of a raven. Soaring over the living encampment, Bran had a better view than before. Even from the necessary distance on account of the cold front, Bran could see how quickly the living were falling.

_The Night King has the living where he wants them. He means to end this tonight._

Bran turned south and moved in the direction that he last saw the dragons headed. If he could find the dragons, he could try to warg into one of them. Without proximity to nor awareness for his intended host’s position, Bran’s ability to warg was near impossible.

Flying south as fast as the raven’s small wings could take him, Bran searched the horizon. An urgent need to find aid drove the host’s body forward. Bran didn’t bother flying west or east. Using the bird’s body as a guide, he tried to follow the warmth.

Bran flew for hours without spotting the dragons. When he was about to give up and consider another approach to save the living, Bran spotted the dragons in the distance. Hi host was just northwest of King’s Landing and somewhere near the Gold Road.

The dragons were dots in the distance; likely just north of Bitterbridge. Their figures were moving north, but lazily.

_They’re still not fully recovered._

Having the visual he needed to feel confident in warging, Bran left the raven’s body. Moments later, he was in the body of Viserion. He felt uncomfortably cold. It was evident that the dragon had suffered greatly in the first engagement with the dead.

His host’s stomach felt full, which indicated a recent meal. Bran hoped that would be enough to give the dragon the strength it needed to save the living. At Bran’s urging, the dragon flew north. It felt counterintuitive to the dragon’s body and Bran had to concentrate to keep the beast moving north.

At their brother’s abrupt movement, Drogon and Rhaegal followed. Unlike flight by raven, the dragons covered ground much faster. Bran worried at how long he had been gone. He took some comfort knowing that his physical body was alive which meant the living had not yet fallen.

The temperature dropped considerably the closer that Bran flew to the battle. He could sense the negative impact of the environment on the beast’s body. A sharp pain in his belly spread outward. His wings didn’t move as fluidly. The molten sensation in his throat dulled as if the fire inside was being snuffed out by the bitter cold.

The animal’s instinct for self-preservation became a struggle for Bran to control. Keeping the dragon flying north was a battle of will. Some part of the dragon’s awareness remained despite Bran controlling its body. 

At Bran’s back, the warning cries of Viserion’s brothers filled the sky. They had as much desire to follow Viserion as Viserion’s body wished to continue its path forward. Bran could only hope that the dragons would understand the urgency and continue to follow.

As the battle came into view over the horizon, Bran appraised the scene below. The living were falling in droves. Soaring lower towards the field, Bran tried to decipher between living and dead. Spewing fire down on the rear of the Night King’s lines, Bran watched as the wights began to fall.

The living looked to the sky in relief. Making another pass above the armies, Bran spotted Jaime. The prince consort’s eyes widened at the sight of the dragons. He yelled out to the men around him and soon, the voices of the living reached Bran as they cried out in unison.

“Fall back! Give the dragons access to the dead!”

At the repetitive commands, the living sprinted away from the battle, leaving only the Night King’s army exposed. They were much slower moving and could not keep up with the living’s rapid retreat.

Drogon and Rhaegal followed Viserion’s lead. They cut fiery paths through the ranks of the dead. Large sections of the Night King’s army again went up in flames.

Bran’s attention was caught by something below. Previously fleeing figures were moving back towards the dead. Jaime, Brienne, and the Queensguard were rushing back towards the wights.

_What are they doing?_

Jaime was running hard and leading the way. His sword was unsheathed, and he slowed slightly to let Brienne cover his path. Slashing through a group of wights, Brienne kept the path clear for Jaime. He reached down for a slumped figure on the ground and picked up a motionless body. Arya.

Bran watched as the Queensguard joined Brienne in beating back the wights clawing at their small group. Arya flopped lifelessly in Jaime’s arms as he sprinted back towards the encampment. Brienne, Barristan, Addam, and Endrew were soon at Jaime’s back and monitoring to ensure no additional threats remained.

As Bran turned his attention back to the dead, he sensed a threat from below. Looking down, he could see the Night King in the middle of the field. A smug look tugged at the creature’s features.

_What is he doing? Why is he not summoning another snow quall and bitter cold?_

A pile of dead soldiers littered the Night King’s feet. It was obvious to Bran that the creature had been in the thick of the battle along with his White Walkers. Appraising the living as they fled, Bran marveled at how few remained.

The living’s numbers were halved. Roughly 50,000-60,000 soldiers rushed back towards the encampment in the distance. Bran knew they would not find sleep tonight. They would need to continue their retreat well beyond the camp.

Fearing the Night King would raise more of the dead, Bran continued to spew dragon fire onto the dead whether downed or standing. Drogon and Rhaegal followed suit, targeting anything around the Night King.

The Night King reached for a spear from one of his generals and took two steps forward. Taking aim, the Night King launched a spear into the sky.

Bran followed the path of the spear and watched as it sliced directly into Rhaegal’s throat. A pool of fire and blood poured out of the animal’s neck as it careened towards the ground below.

_Gods. This is why he kept the bitter cold away. He means to kill the dragons._

The dragon landed hard on the ground and skidded forward, plowing through wights in its path. Bran urged Viserion’s body towards its brother.

_I have to burn the dragon’s body._

Nearing Rhaegal, Bran controlled Viserion’s body and forced it to spew dragon fire on its dead brother. Bran could sense the inner turmoil of his host. Viserion did not wish to burn its brother; even in death.

Glancing to the Night King, Bran saw the creature take another spear from his general. Bran knew he had to halt his effort to burn Rhaegal’s body. The effort was proving futile anyway. The animal’s thick scales withstood Barn’s attempt to see it crumble to ash.

At the last second possible, Bran pulled away and barely dodged another spear from the Night King. In a desperate bid to prevent more dead from rising, Bran returned to trying to burn the dead army. The White Walkers watched with expressionless faces as dragon fire again poured down on their ranks.

With Drogon’s effort, more scores of dead were aflame and lay motionless on the ground below. Making another pass, Bran could see the Night King approach Rhaegal. With a hand to the dragon’s snout, Rhaegal’s eyes flew open to reveal a deadly blue shade. At the same time, the dead not yet set ablaze began to stand.

The Night King looked to Viserion. His eyes met Bran’s and his lips twitched. Placing his hand on the ground again, Bran knew what was coming. In the distance, a snow squall rapidly approached. Bran felt the shift in temperature. 

Viserion’s body began to convulse and Bran knew that he had to release his host, or the living would lose another dragon. Bran’s eyes rolled forward and he was in Jon’s arms as the army ran south. To his right, Jaime ran holding Arya in his arms. The queen and Queensguard were at Jaime’s other side.

The dragons flew overhead in a desperate bid to get south. A vicious wind whipped through the camp and sent several of the tents flying past them.

Bran heard the living crying out in warning.

“The Night King is atop the other dragon! Run!”


	11. Fleeing South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The living run from the dead. Jaime worries over Arya and they decide where to regroup.

Jaime had never felt so physical exhausted in all his life. They had nearly succumbed to death itself just an hour or two earlier. Now they were running south for their lives. The Night King had taken one pass through their ranks, torching the living, before turning back north.

The smell of burning flesh and the sound of men screaming brought a flood of unwelcome memories to the forefront of Jaime’s mind. All Jaime knew was that he had to keep running. He had to stay alive for his children, for his wife, and for the wounded young woman in his arms.

Jaime glanced down to Arya’s unconscious body before looking forward again. When he heard Arya scream and turned to see the dead pounce on her, Jaime had visions of the dead jumping atop his little Catelyn.

Before the triplets were born, Jaime knew in his heart that he and Brienne would have a little girl. He hoped for a young version of Brienne. A mini Arya of sorts. Strong-willed, brave, and fierce. Maybe slightly less defiant.

Arya had started to feel like a daughter. Mayhap it was because Arya was around the age as Myrcella, but Jaime’s paternal instincts kicked in when he saw Arya fall and cry for aid.

When he first got to her, Arya was fading from a mix of shock and blood loss. “Stay with me little wolf. You need to teach Catelyn that move you do with the dagger.”

Now Arya lay motionless in his arms as they fled south. She needed a maester quickly. The dead had sliced through her middle and she would need proper cleaning, stitches, and dressings for the wound. Until then, Brienne had run ahead to one of the tents and grabbed a linen.

They bound the linen around the girl’s stomach to keep further blood loss to a minimum. Arya should live, but she needed treatment. Other soldiers had offered to carry the little wolf, but Jaime refused. He didn’t trust anyone else with her care.

A memory from a few moons ago came to the forefront of Jaime’s mind. Arya had joined them for a day at the beach. From the time she could walk, Catelyn had taken in instant liking to Arya. They were like kindred spirits where it concerned interests in sparring and exploring.

The young wolf had the little girl atop her shoulders as they ran up and down the shoreline. Catelyn giggled as Arya pretended to be Viserion, snarling and spewing fire onto the boys who fled before them.

Brienne’s voice cut through Jaime’s memory. “We can’t keep running for days on end. We need to stop soon. We’re losing some of the men.”

Jaime grunted in frustration. “We can’t stop! We need to put more distance between ourselves and the dead.”

At his side, Bran spoke in an emotionless tone. “He’s right. We must keep moving. They dead move slowly, but they won’t rest.”

Jaime tried to crane his neck backwards towards the rear of their ranks. Men were falling behind from exhaustion and would soon be overrun by the Night King’s army. “We should put more capable soldiers at the rear to guard those falling behind.”

Brienne offered one of the more reasonable suggestions of the night. “Why not send the giant back there? Better yet, he can carry the weakest among us.”

Calling out for Tormund, Barristan’s head darted around for the wildling leader. “Giantsbane! Anyone seen Tormund Gitanstbane!?”

“He’s dead.” Jon’s voice was thick with sorrow. Tears pooled in the man’s eyes as Jaime’s head snapped to him.

“What!?”

“He saved me. A White Walker nearly took my head off and he pushed me aside. Took the blow.” Jon’s voice was strained as he continued running alongside Jaime. Bran’s brows furrowed as Jon continued to hold the young man in his arms.

“I didn’t see any of it. I was elsewhere.” Bran looked to the sky and sighed before he continued. “I brought the dragons back north when I realized the dead were attacking again. I missed much of the battle. I’ll need to study it later. See what I can learn of the Night King’s fighting. I saw a pile of bodies at his feet. He must have been in the battle.”

At Jaime’s side, Brienne huffed. Her voice came out heavy with worry. “We saw him fighting. I fear he may be unbeatable. I’ve never seen a fighter like him before. He and his generals seemed to be targeting those of us with valyrian steel.”

“Not with valyrian steel. He was targeting our best fighters. I think we may have lost more than Tormund tonight.” Bran sighed at the words.

Endrew huffed a laugh and spoke teasingly. “So, which one of you was that White Walker coming for? Queen Brienne or Ser Jaime? Who is the better fighter the creature wanted after?”

Both Jaime and Brienne responded quickly and with the same answer. “Me!”

Jaime chuckled and looked to Brienne. “My hands were chained, and I had barely eaten in a year! I still nearly defeated you.”

Brienne bit back a laugh and tried to keep the mirth from her words. “Nearly? You’re delusional I beat the Mountain. You said that the Mountain could have beaten you.”

_Fuck. Did I say that? I only named Barristan I thought._

“I don’t recall that. You’re unwell, wench. Only your Lord Commander could beat me.”

Brienne smiled widely, her voice slightly breathless as they continued at a steady jog. “I beat him in a spar.”

“You did not!”

“She did.” Barristan chuckled at their back.

“Well of course you let her win. She’s the queen. Besides… I could beat you now too. You’re old.” Jaime teased as he craned his neck to look at Barristan. Even at Barristan’s age, he was frighteningly good with a sword and could kill anything or anyone he felt like. In Barristan’s prime though, Jaime knew he stood no chance. Jaime would be dead before he could raise his sword.

Rolling his eyes, Barristan huffed a laugh as he kept pace behind them. “I did not _let_ her Grace win… entirely.”

“What!?” Brienne half scolded Barristan from Jaime’s side. Jaime could barely control his laughter as Brienne pushed the matter. “Entirely? What is that? Do we need a rematch?”

Jaime glanced between the two and offered a different approach. “Whoever kills the Night King can boast the title of most skilled swordsman… or swordswoman.” 

The returning smile from Barristan was a rare thing. The knight was always so impassive and rarely took part in Jaime’s and Brienne’s banter. A hint of jest reached Barristan’s eyes and voice. “I haven’t had a challenge in years. That sounds wonderful.”

The implication was not lost on Jaime and Brienne. This time, they both scoffed and feigned offense. “Do you hear that your Grace? He needs proper competition.”

Barristan returned to the task at hand; trying to find wildlings to inform the giant that aid was needed at the rear of the lines. He called out to other Free Folk they had met over the past moon turns. Tormund had been their strongest fighter, but they had other leaders among their people who could likely convey to the giant their needs.

Jaime turned his attention back to Arya. “We need a bloody maester. Arya will need stitches and something to flush out the wound of any debris or that nasty shit the dead gush out.”

Jon appraised Arya and looked around as he continued running. “Sam studied at the Citadel. He isn’t a maester, but he is highly skilled. He cured Ser Jorah of greyscale. He joined us at Bran’s urging.”

A faint smile tugged at Bran’s lips. “He’ll prove useful in more than one way.”

_Why does he do this!? Why not just tell us everything he knows!?_

After hours of their hurried retreat, they passed the Twins and continued south. Jaime felt his arms crying for relief. Brienne had the right of it. They couldn’t maintain this pace all night. They had slowed from a jog some time ago, but the living walked with purpose.

“Jaime. Give me Arya. You can’t carry her the entire way.” Brienne reached for the young woman, but Jaime barked at her.

“No! I’m fine. Where the fuck is Sam!?”

Bran snorted in Endrew’s arms. Jon had passed the young lord off some time ago.

“There are near 60,000 living among us. It’s difficult to track him down, but he did not fall in the battle. I’ve scouted the distance between our army and the dead. We can take rest soon. Just a bit more distance first.”

Jaime rolled his eyes at the words. “You figured all that out while you took a little nap, but you still don’t know how the fuck we beat the Night King? You have the worst superpowers.”

Jaime knew it wasn’t fair to take his frustration out on Bran. The young man had saved them all by bringing the dragon back and burning as many dead as he could before returning to his own body. As if sensing this guilt, Bran spoke calmly in Endrew’s arms.

“She’ll be fine. The wound is well bound, and Sam will soon clean the injury before suturing it. And I’ve told you, I can’t see the future. I can only see the past and I can see the present by warging into nearby animals. I’ve only warged into a human once. Maybe I can warg into you. That would be great fun.”

Jaime scoffed and looked to Bran. “Why not just warg into the Night King and have the creature stab himself to death? Wouldn’t that be the most productive thing to do?”

Bran spoke sarcastically as he held Jaime’s stare. “Now why didn’t I consider of that before? To think, all this trouble could have been spared.” Speaking more seriously, Bran spoke again. “I can’t warg into the Night King any sooner than I can warg into a wight. I have only been able to warg into living creatures and one human. I don’t know why that is, but trust me… I tried warging into others. It has never worked.”

Considering his words, Jaime questioned Bran. “If you can’t see the future, how have you known certain things would come to pass?”

The young man sighed and looked to the sky. “History often repeat itself. That and I dream of the future. The dreams are always hazy though. More like a riddle to be solved than a clear picture. I share what I know in the hope the riddle means more to the recipient than me.”

_Well this is certainly something that would have been nice to know many moons ago._

Before Jaime could question the young man further, Bran continued. “The Night King’s army is now double ours in size. We need you to consider a new strategy. Mayhap we could stop at Oldstones? It is south of here and I find that my dreams are clearer when I’m at places with rich pasts.”

“Seems more a statement than a question, Lord Bran.” Jaime couldn’t help but keep the annoyance from his tone. He hadn’t the mind for riddles and didn’t want to encourage more from the young man.

Bran studied him for a moment and spoke more plainly. “I had a dream of Oldstones. I don’t understand it, but I feel we need to go there.”

“There. Now was that so difficult? I much prefer straightforward requests.”

A wide smile tugged at Bran’s lips. “It’s a long way to Oldstones. We might as well get to know one another.”

_Seven hells. Back to torture._

Brienne snorted at Jaime’s side and moved to speak, but an urgent voice called out. “Arya!? Has anyone seen Arya!?”

_Oh no. Not this shit again. I swear by the Seven I will murder this boy._

Jaime’s jaw clenched tightly at the sound of Gendry’s voice. Days before the dead arrived, Jaime found Arya speaking with the Baratheon bastard. He thought back on the meeting.

Jaime had never seen such a shy smile on the young wolf’s face. Had he not known Arya as he did, Jaime would have thought she fancied the boy. The idea alone was nearly enough to make Jaime double over laughing.

_Arya doesn’t fancy anyone. She wishes to stab people. No way is my honorary daughter interested in whoever that is. And that boy looks an awful lot like… Renly fucking Baratheon._

Approaching the pair, Jaime saw Arya’s face flush as the young man made a comment. His eyes moved to his feet before returning his gaze into Arya’s eyes.

“Arya. Who is _this_?”

At Jaime’s approach, Arya straightened. The softness observed in her features moments earlier quickly faded. “This annoying shit is Gendry. We knew one another some years ago.”

_Gendry. Oh no. Now I have to murder her little friend before her eyes._

“Gendry. Gendry bastard of Robert Baratheon?” The disdain in Jaime’s voice did not go unnoticed by the pair. Arya moved into her signature defensive posturing.

_Gods. She does fancy him. Seven hells._

“Don’t call him a bastard! You’re one to talk!” Arya snapped at Jaime and glanced to Gendry. The boy’s eyes were downcast before he looked to Jaime.

“I’m one to talk? Do you think me a bastard little wolf? Have you hit your head on something? I’m Jaime Lannister. Son of Tywin. I do know a thing or two of bastards though. I hear one may even be born at Storm’s End in several moons.”

At the words, Gendry’s eyes went wide. Taking a menacing step towards Gendry, Jaime put his hand at the hilt of his sword. “Stay away from Arya or I swear to the Seven that I will slit you from balls to brains.”

Gendry bowed and stammered an apology before running off. “Apologies m’lord. I didn’t mean any harm. Arya is a good friend. I only hoped to fight at her side.”

Once they were alone, Arya scowled and pushed Jaime as hard as she could. “What’s wrong with you!? He is my friend!”

Jaime scoffed and spoke in an incredulous tone. “I’m trying to look out for you! You don’t know anything about that boy.”

“I know more about him than you! We’re friends!”

Jaime cast a warning look and leaned in to speak quietly. “And Lady Margaery knows even more about him. Stay away from the boy. He is trouble.”

Arya glared and took a defiant step forward. “You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Gendry’s voice again called out for Arya as Jaime looked down at the girl in his arms. “Arya!? Arya Stark!? Anyone, please.”

Brienne muttered at Jaime’s side. “Come now, Jaime. Don’t let the boy think his friend missing or worse.”

Meeting Brienne’s eyes, Jaime’s tone came out like that of a petulant child. “I intend for _him_ to be missing or worse.”

Bran chuckled and called back to Gendry. “She’s over here Gendry. With her fath… apologies… with the Prince Consort.”

Jaime glared at Bran and spoke in hushed tones. “Why don’t you go warg into Gendry and send him to after the Night King.”

Bran smiled and looked back at Gendry who was quickly rushing through the crowd. The bastard’s face was panic-stricken as his eyes darted around. When they landed on Jaime, Gendry’s eyes faltered.

“Oh. I’m sorry, m’lord. I mean… Prince Jaime.”

_Prince Jaime. What the fuck is that?_

“I am a knight, boy. You would do well to remember that I have Valyrian steel at my hip. What do you want?”

_Gods. Where is Selwyn when I need him to lay hands on someone. Just like his father, this one._

“Is she alright? I lost sight of her during the battle. A Walker nearly killed her. After I killed it, she was gone. I couldn’t find her.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and looked at the bastard. “A wight. You killed a wight just as we all did. Many of them in fact. Some more than once. A White Walker is a rather different beast altogether.”

Bran smiled at Jaime and corrected him. “I can assure you that Gendry knows the difference. He did kill a White Walker that was taking aim at Arya. He killed it with his dragonglass _war hammer_.”

Jaime grunted at the words. He supposed he could at least appreciate that much about the boy, but he would never give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Appraising Robert’s bastard, Jaime muttered before responding. “Well she is fine. You can go back to your search for camp followers. Try to avoid the ones with deadly blue eyes.”

“Jaime!” Brienne reprimanded Jaime and looked to the young man. “Thank you for saving her. She is safe now. If anything changes, we’ll let you know.”

_We will do no such thing. I will carry this grudge until I meet the Stranger._

Gendry nodded and slowly slipped back into the ranks. “Yes, your Grace. Thank you. Apologies for intruding.”

Brienne spoke quietly at Jaime’s side. “Honestly, Jaime. Do you intend to be this difficult when a man shows interest in little Catelyn?”

Jaime scoffed and looked to Brienne as though she morphed into the Night King himself. “Catelyn is not to be courted by anyone. Ever. She only needs us. Particularly me. And Arya and this boy do not… forget it.”

With a huff of laughter, Brienne shook her head and smiled. “You truly are delusional.”

Ignoring Brienne, Jaime glanced to Bran. The boy had a knowing smile on his face that unnerved Jaime. Choosing to ignore whatever nonsense Bran had in his head, he turned his attention back to Brienne.

“I told you what the boy did! He isn’t going to do the same to Arya or anyone else for that matter.”

They didn’t speak further on the matter, but Jaime knew that Brienne had an altogether different opinion than he did. Brienne was of the mindset that Arya should decide what she wants, and Jaime should stay out of it. He felt otherwise. It was a stalemate that they opted to let be.

When eventually they came to a location that Bran deemed far enough from the dead for the living to rest for a few hours, Jaime sought out Sam to tend to Arya. The Tarly boy carried a satchel filled with various ointments that were intended to treat battle wounds or illness.

“Do you even have one chain?” Jaime’s brows furrowed as he watched the man work.

“No, but I think I can handle some stitches your… prince… ser.” Sam tripped over the proper words for what to call Jaime.

With a sigh, Jaime shook his head. “Why do I always get stuck dealing with men outcast from the Citadel?” Looking around, Jaime turned back to Sam. “So, are you another of Lord Randyll’s sons? I’ve only met Dickon just a week ago.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, ser. I’m the older and far less preferred son.”

Jaime grimaced slightly and hummed.

_Randyll has always been a bit of a cunt._

“Well… your father may be a miserable shit, but he is a strong fighter.” Jaime’s tone was conciliatory at best. He cared little for the Tarly patriarch, but Lord Randyll was one of Lady Olenna’s strongest vassals.

“He died in the last battle, Ser Jaime. A White Walker came at him. I couldn’t kill the creature in time.” Sam’s words shocked Jaime. He didn’t know what was more surprising. That Randyll had fallen or that Sam had killed the creature.

“You killed a White Walker!?”

Sam smiled as he worked. “That would be my second, thank you.”

_Gods. First that Gendry shit and now this unshapely, failed maester. Brienne got to kill the only White that came near us._

Appraising the young man, Jaime saw the steal at his hip. “Is that… Valyrian steel?”

Sam’s face fell slightly. “Yes, I took it from my father’s home before heading to the Citadel. Had I not taken it, he likely would have lived. It’s my fault. His dragonglass weapon shattered under the White Walker’s blade.”

A heavy exhale pushed past Jaime’s lips. “And your brother? Is he still alive?”

“Yes, Ser Jaime. He’s with the rest of the men from the Reach. I should give him the sword in the next battle. I’m not much of a fighter. I should have offered the sword up before, but I gave it to Ser Jorah in the first battle. Jon has Ser Jorah’s ancestral sword. Ser Jorah wouldn’t take it back, so I offered my family’s sword. He gave it back after the first fight though. He hadn’t realized my father was there until he saw the man. Said it didn’t seem right wielding my family’s sword.”

Sitting back on his ankles, Sam appraised his work. “All patched up. The dressing has a healing ointment and should be reapplied on the morrow. She will be fine. The wound wasn’t too deep.”

“Thank you, Sam. I’m sorry to hear of your father. Give Dickon my condolences.” Jaime moved back near Arya’s head and pulled her slightly to his lap so that she could rest more comfortably.

Brienne soon joined Jaime and inquired after Arya. The spoke for some time and Brienne took a short nap at Jaime’s side. Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off Brienne. Her features relaxed in sleep and made her look younger than usual. With Brienne’s confidence and skill, it was sometimes easy to forget how young she was.

Arya moved slightly and winced in pain. The young wolf’s eyes fluttered open and she looked around in fear.

“You’re fine. Relax.” Jaime eased the girl’s worries.

Arya reached for her middle and grimaced. “Is it bad?”

Jaime smiled teasingly. “You should see the other guy.”

“You’re a shit.” Arya rolled her eyes, but the mirth quickly faded. “Thank you. I don’t remember much. Just your annoying face and voice.”

“Well if you were going to die, at least you would have died with the best view possible then.”

Arya groaned and shook her head. Then her face became more solemn. “I’m sorry I was mad at you. You were right about Gendry. I asked him about Margaery. He admitted what he did. He kept trying to fight near me in the second battle, but I kept away as you told me to do.”

Jaime grimaced and looked away. “Yes, well… I suppose he did some good for you. Saved you from some White Walker. _Supposedly_. I think Bran makes shit up sometimes and the Gendry fellow seems a bit dense.”

Arya chuckled at his words, but her face fell again. “Well he can save it. I’m mad at him.”

“Like you were mad at me?” Jaime raised a knowing brow. He could tell that she still cared for the Baratheon boy. Jaime feared that she might even love the boy.

“That’s different. You’re more like family. Annoying family.” Arya’s voice was teasing, but warm.

“Good. I would hate to be anything but annoying.” Jaime bit back a laugh and appraised the handful of soldiers milling about. Off to the side, he could see Gendry hovering too close for his liking. With a huff of annoyance, he looked to Arya and spoke through gritted teeth, playing at indifference.

“Do you wish me to bring the boy over here?”

Arya considered his question but met his eyes and spoke resolutely. “No. I have the company that I prefer. Now shut up. I wish to sleep, and pillows shouldn’t speak.”

Jaime snorted at her words and looked away. He felt Arya shift slightly to get more comfortable as she kept her head on his right thigh. Her hand grabbed at his right knee and she exhaled before finding sleep again.

_If that boy hurts her, I will kill him._


	12. The Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyion cares for the triplets at King's Landing and communicates with Tyrion by raven.

Tywin walked the halls of the Keep with his chest puffed out. Nothing could sour his mood over the past week since the raven arrived with news of his latest grandbabe.

_Little Joanna. My Joanna will rule the Rock one day and make us proud._

A flurry of ravens made their way between the Rock and King’s Landing. Tywin’s first reply had flown out following word of the babe’s birth.

_Son,_

_I have never been happier and prouder. A wonderful name for the future Lady of the Rock. Your mother would be most honored. I cannot wait to hold Joanna when this war is done. Does she look like a lion or wolf? Does she sleep well? Is Sansa well?_

_The triplets are exhausting. I’m too old for this shit. Catelyn continues to lead the way for the boys. She consoles them when they miss their parents and we’re unable to soothe them._

_Little Tywin and I spend a lot of time in the library together. He reminds me so much of you. A very smart little boy and he loves the history of Westeros and its Houses. Do you recommend any books?_

_Little Selwyn is… Selwyn. I think that tells you enough. I’ve had to coerce him out of trees with promises of sweets and fruit. I had so looked forward to finally enjoying grapes with your brother away, but little Selwyn is now eating your father’s share._

_Give my regards to Sansa._

_Tywin_

A few days after his letter went out, another letter returned.

_Father,_

_Little Joanna is a wonderful sleeper and easy babe. She has truly taken pity on me and Sansa. It’s a good thing because our days are rather hectic here. I’ve kept in close contact with the vassals at your request. They worry after their lands with the bannermen away, but I’ve put some strategies in place to ease their worries._

_I’ve also resolved several disputes and they are all honoring my word. Some have even sought me out for advice which is a most welcome surprise. Strangely, Lord Broom came for a visit to reaffirm his fealty to our House._

_He brought with him a welcome gift for my arrival at the Rock. He had one of his smiths forge a most impressive ax. Much nicer than the one I used at the Battle of the Blackwater! I had not realized word of my exploits reached the West, but it was quite nice. I was surprise to see that he had one hand though. I recall him with two. Might you know if he misplaced it somewhere, father?_

_Joanna has green eyes like our kin, but a tuft of auburn hair. How very Tully of her. She is of normal stature, which I am immensely relieved for. I was worried she may be deformed like me._

_For little Tywin, I recommend ‘Lives of Four Kings’. When Joffrey murdered the copy that I gave him, I secured another. It is in the back row of the library on the bottom shelf._

_With Selwyn, I find that taking him down to the beach and letting him chase the seagulls wears him out. It makes him easier to deal with for the remainder of the day._

_Catelyn thrives on responsibility. I give her little tasks to occupy her and it keeps her from beating up her brothers too often._

_Sansa sends her regards. She was overwhelmed with the size of the Rock when we arrived, but she has since found her way around. I can tell that she still misses Winterfell, but the horrid weather reminds her of the North. I can’t say that I am as pleased by it._

_Give the triplets a squeeze for me._

_Tyrion_

Tywin had taken Tyrion’s suggestions and they worked incredibly well. Part of Tyrion’s letter troubled Tywin, however. Tyrion’s worry that the babe might have been ‘deformed like me.’

Tywin recalled an incident from six moons prior. When Tywin was at the Rock for war preparations, he called his vassals to discuss several matters of great import. It was imperative to Tywin that they understood procedures for evacuation and the line of succession before he left for King's Landing. The days passed quickly with the vassals, but when Tywin announced that Tyrion would be heir to the Rock, the room had quieted.

No one expressed discontent, although someone did inquire why Jaime would not be made heir. Another vassal chimed in to suggest that Jaime could select a Castellan, but the line of succession would ensure one of the triplets led the Rock.

That evening, Tywin was preparing to enter the great hall for dinner with the vassal when one of his nephews requested a moment of his time. As they spoke in the hallway, Tywin heard the vassals grow bold with wine in their bellies.

Lord Broom could be heard mocking Tyrion. The vassal japed at what would become of the House Lannister with the imp ruling the Rock. The fool spoke words more treasonous than House Reyne before Tywin extinguished them.

Something dark and protective flashed in Tywin. Turning to his nephew, Tywin instructed the lad to go to his study and bring him the sword hanging on the wall. Tywin moved into the hall and all conversation stopped.

The lords stood at his entry and bowed. Tywin indicated the lords should take their seats, but he remained standing at the head of the table. Offering a look that would see most of his vassals pissing themselves under the seat, Tywin began to speak in a tone that barely concealed his anger.

“I would like to make somethings clear that some of you may have failed to understand earlier this day. My _son_ , Tyrion Lannister, is to be heir to Casterly Rock. He may be short in stature, but he is the biggest man that I know. He is leading Westeros as we speak; working to save all of _your_ lives. My older son and his wife, your queen, are two of the most accomplished knights in Westeros. They are brave and not to be trifled with, but they are not political. It is not their nature. At Queen Brienne’s request, Tyrion was named Hand where I had otherwise sought to honor myself with the title.”

Tywin began to pace the room and study the faces of his vassals. He took pause and watched as their eyes followed him nervously.

“My _son_ , Tyrion, is ruling the Seven Kingdoms on their behalf. Of course, they express ideas and desires. Tyrion ensures their wants take shape. Let me be clear however in that Tyrion is the mastermind. He is the most intelligent man in Westeros. You should consider yourselves lucky that he is a Lannister. He identified the threat in the North and the Vale in support of the false king, Stannis. He organized and led the war to see those threats removed. To see me rescued from this very castle. To see his treasonous sister meet the Stranger.”

The lords’ eyes went wide as Tywin continued to appraise their reaction.

“I can assure you that if he did not hesitate to kill his sister to save me and the West, he will not hesitate to kill any of you for less. He led the battle after drafting the military plan. That makes it the second battle that he has planned, led, and saw to victory. The first was the Battle of the Blackwater. He devised the plan that saved the entire city just as Prince Jaime once saved the entire city. During that battle, the Hound fled in fear. The king hid in his room. My son, who is half the stature of the men he faced, stood with a battle ax and fought beside the army that he commanded! I merely rode in on my white horse to steal his Hand pin.”

Tywin turned his attention to the door as his nephew entered with the requested sword. The sword of Tywin’s grandfather. Reaching out his hand to take it, Tywin set his eyes on Lord Broom. Tywin moved to stand behind the lord as he continued to speak.

“House Lannister will never fall. It will never weaken. My sons have seen to it that my line will continue despite me. Tyrion brings our kingdom an alliance with the North. Tyrion brings our kingdom the second most powerful position in Westeros as Hand. Some may argue, it is _the_ most powerful position. Jaime and my gooddaughter bring us the crown. Rest assured that long after I am gone from this world, Prince Jaime and Queen Brienne will lay waste to anyone threatening Tyrion’s rule at the Rock. Why don’t any of you ask House Bolton, House Frey, House Baratheon, and the entirety of the fucking Vale what happens when my children are crossed!”

At the rise in Tywin’s voice, many of the vassals flinched and looked to their plates. Lord Broom’s breathing began to falter from his seated position. Leaning his maimed arm on the back of the lord’s chair, Tywin leaned down to the man.

“Lord Broom. Do you know _why_ I lost my hand?”

The lord looked around the table at the gathered vassals. None would meet his eyes nor offer aid. Tywin had listened from outside the hall before entering to learn who might agree with Lord Broom’s words. None had.

“No, my lord. I do not.”

“Hubris. I almost brought the downfall of my House. Tyrion saved it. He builds it stronger. Anyone who does not recognize nor accept that, might as well be House Reyne.”

At Tywin’s words, all heads snapped up to look at him. Fear flickered across their faces as would a flame kissed by a breeze.

“Stand up Lord Broom.”

“My lord, I…”

“Stand up!” Tywin’s tone brokered no argument and the lord jumped to his feet.

Looking to Lord Yew who was seated to Lord Broom’s left, Tywin inclined his head to indicate the man needed to move… immediately.

“Hands on the table Lord Broom.” Tywin’s tone was cold.

With shaking hands, the lord placed his hands on the table before him. He began to whimper and beg for mercy.

“Hubris is the downfall of the West. My son Tyrion, your future liege lord, is the savior of the West. If you wish to spend your days atoning for your words against my son, you may offer your hand. If you wish to spend your days speaking or moving against my son, you may offer your head. What shall it be?”

The man looked to Tywin in shock. “My lord! How can you ask such a thing of me!?”

Tywin lifted his own maimed arm. “I see this as my redemption. I’ve been humbled and made to see the truth in things. I prefer this to the Stranger. What do you prefer?”

Lord Broom’s eyes went wide. He swallowed thickly and choked back a sob. “The hand, my lord.”

With the swing of the blade, Lord Broom learned a valuable lesson. The rest of the summit found the vassals much more agreeable. Tywin saw to it that Lord Broom had proper treatment from the maester, unlike the experience he and Jaime endured.

Tywin had the neighboring vassals to Lord Broom keep an eye on the lord to ensure no words of treason were uttered after his lesson.

_Tyrion,_

_Let me be clear about this. You are not deformed. You are perfect as you are. I will not hear such nonsense again._

_I am pleased with your handling of the vassal and happy to hear that Lord Broom has remembered himself. Strange, I recall him with two hands as well. He must have erred along the way._

_Your recommendations helped immensely. It was not the dead I had feared, but rather the triplets sending me to meet the Stranger._

_Do you have suggestions for your aunt as well? I never realized what a nag she can be. She is quite bossy. Mayhap I just ignored her better in the past. I’m starting to think that perhaps it has been the women ruling our House all along._

_I’m glad that Sansa has found her away around, though I can’t say that I share my joy of this bloody cold. In storage, there are some fine quilts from the North. They may remind Sansa of home. Your mother received them as a gift once and I hadn’t the heart to keep them in sight after her passing._

_They were wedding gifts from Lord Ned Stark’s parents. I thought it frivolous, but they insisted that ‘Winter is Coming’. There are small direwolves on the embroidery that your mother always found great amusement in laying out over our crimson and gold sheets during colder moons._

_Give my little Joanna a kiss for her grandpa._

_Tywin_

Making his way into the great hall, Tywin observed Selwyn chasing little Sel around the table. The pair were growling like bears while Catelyn and Tywin giggled. Genna rolled her eyes and scolded the pair of Selwyns.

“Would the two of you sit still for a moment!? Gods its as though I’ve been tasked with watching four children.”

Tywin huffed a laugh and called out to the group. “You’ll have better luck getting little Sel under control than the big one.”

“Ha! There he is, children! The proud grandpa. Go maul him while I sit still at your great aunt’s insistence. She is more frightening than your mother.”

Genna snorted as Selwyn sat down. The island of a man reached for the crumb cake at the center of the table and shoved a handful into his mouth. Three unruly children ran towards Tywin and grabbed at his legs, laughing loudly in the process.

“Grandpa Ty! We got outside?” Catelyn looked up hopefully at him. For the past two days, they had kept the children indoors as snowfall accumulated on the ground. If Tywin was being honest with himself, he could use the fresh air too.

“If you eat a proper meal first, then yes, we can go outside for a bit.” The children clapped excitedly and pulled him towards the table. Little Sel sat beside Tywin and growled like a lion as he tore into his plate of food.

Genna scoffed and reeled back in offense. “That is not how a young prince should take his meal! By the Gods, boy! Use a fork!”

The triplets laughed loudly as crumbs fell from little Sel’s face. Twyin wiped the crumbs from the boy’s chin and shook his head; amusement writ across his features. Little Cat climbed atop his lap and snuggled close.

“Grandpa Ty. I miss momma and papa.” The little girl’s big blue eyes looked at him morosely. It was heartbreaking to see how the children missed their parents. He prayed to the Seven that Brienne and Jaime would return safely soon.

With a deep sigh, Tywin held the girl close and met her eyes. “Hopefully they’ll be home soon. I miss them too. Even your troublesome father.”

When the children finished their meal, Selwyn and Tywin took them outside for some fresh air. The children had never experienced snow before and Tywin couldn’t recall the last time he endured it. The grandfathers worked to roll mounds of snow together to build a snowknight.

They taught the triplets how to make balls of snow to have a snowball fight. As usual, Catelyn was the victor in their battle. Little Selwyn loved pouncing from snowdrift to snowdrift. It gave the boy a softer landing than when he climbed the trees and hung down from branches.

Of course, little Tywin had an array of questions surrounding the presence of the snow. He pondered how often snow fell in the south. Which kingdoms were used to the cold weather. When the snow would stop.

_Always so academic that one. I can see why he and Tyrion enjoy each other so._

They soon made their way inside to warm the children up. Genna hung out the wet clothing by the fire in the great hall. Attendants brought the children warmed cider and Selwyn shared his brandy with Tywin.

Later that night, Tywin and Selwyn put the children to bed. Selwyn told an animated bedtime story from the history of Tarth. It was quite comical as the massive man acted out a great battle that took place on the island many generations ago.

Little Ty asked a plethora of questions that kept disrupting the flow of Selwyn’s story. The older lord huffed with every question. “Gods, boy! Do you ever stop? You’re worse than your Uncle Tyrion. Now, where was I?”

Selwyn pawed at his beard and considered what he was saying. “Ah! Yes! Back to the ruin of Morne!”

The tale continued and Tywin was amused at Selwyn’s continued enthusiasm where it concerned the history and folklore of his island. His excitement was contagious, and the children kneeled eagerly on the edge of their beds. When Selwyn’s grand tale ended, the grandfathers tucked in the children and kissed their heads goodnight.

Tywin made his way down the hall and clapped Selwyn on the back. “Another successful day of keeping ourselves and the children alive. So far, so good.”

“Ha! I like to think the barrel of brandy that I had brought over is a key contributor to our continued success. I promised little Sel that we would visit the dragonpit soon. He wants new areas to climb.”

Tywin hummed in consideration. The triplets were in better spirits after the time outside that day. It also did Tywin some good to get outside and stretch his legs a bit more.

After parting ways with Selwyn, Tywin headed for his room to prepare for the night. He thought on many things. The little granddaughter across Westeros who he had yet to hold. The three rambunctious triplets in his care. The safety of his children at the Neck.

Sleep soon found Tywin and he dreamed of his Joanna. He dreamed that she was still alive and enjoying the grandbabes with him. It felt so real, as though he could feel her hands under his as they held little Joanna.

Tywin awoke with a start some hours later. He could sense the presence of someone in the room. Glancing around, Tywin squinted into the darkness and saw the outline of a small child. Little Tywin. The young boy seemed to be in a trance as he stood near the foot of the bed.

_Gods. He must be sleepwalking. What is wrong with his eyes?_

“Little Ty? Are you alright?” At Tywin’s words, the boy’s eyes rolled forward, and he moved closer to the bed. A shadow lifted from his features as he looked to Tywin. He spoke as clearly as he did that day with Selwyn in the tunnels below the city.

“I saw mother and father.”

Tywin sighed and reached down for the boy; pulling him into the bed beside him. Swallowing thickly, Tywin held the boy close and settled him into the bed.

“They’re not here little one. They’re fighting in the war to keep us all safe.”

The young boy shook his head. “Not here. I see them in a bear pit.”

_Gods. That stupid tale has given him nightmares. I’ve told the children that the tots were not old enough for such stories._

“Your mother’s and father’s adventures together are quite intense. I do wish they had not told you those stories. You were just having a dream, sweetling. Now try to reset. I do believe it is still the middle of the night.”

Tywin grumbled as he spoke. In truth, the lack of daylight made it near impossible to tell where one day ended and the next began. Were it not for the consistency of the children’s eating habits, Tywin would have lost track of time entirely.

Little Tywin sat up abruptly, his green eyes grew distant and he shook his head. He spoke in an incredibly clear and ominous tone. “No. Not then. Now. I see them and the Night King. Where we could not hold life.”

At the young boy’s words, Tywin sat up. Little Ty spoke with clarity and of things that he had no business knowing. Jaime and Brienne had wanted to shield the children from knowledge of what marched on the living. No one spoke of the Night King around the children nor discussed what the army faced in war.

“Little Ty. Look at me. Where did you hear this?”

The boy raised a brow and tilted his head. “I see in dreams. They die if they don’t go there.”

Tywin felt frantic as he held the young boy’s eyes. “What are you saying? They need to go to the bear pit?”

_Gods. I need to stop reading to this boy from adult books. He is too young. Too impressionable. No more of this bear story either._

Little Tywin nodded his head. “Bear pit castle. I see the scary tree.”

With a sigh, Tywin patted the boy’s head. “They are not there. They are further north. They are at the Neck fighting. Hopefully they will be home soon.”

The boy became upset and pulled away. “No, grandpa Ty! They leave. They running.” Hopping off the bed, little Tywin left the room without another word.

_Where is he going?_

Tywin moved from the bed and grabbed his robe. Moving into the hallway, Tywin followed little Ty. A cold draft passed through the hallway and send a shiver down Tywin’s spine. Little Ty turned into the nursery and left the door open as he entered.

Looking into the room, Tywin saw the sleeping forms of Catelyn and Selwyn. He watched as Tywin sat down in the middle of the floor and played with some wooden toy knights that were arranged in battle formations.

_Gods. How long has he been awake for?_

Moving to the floor beside little Ty, Tywin studied the young boy. The child’s words and dream were worrisome at best. Considering the tot’s tale, Tywin took a deep breath. The young boy looked so much like Jaime in the moment. His brows were furrowed as he played with the toys contentedly.

“Sometimes our dreams feel real. You might have seen things that frighten you. I’m here if you wish to speak to someone about it.”

Little Tywin stopped playing. He was poised as he replied and as he had earlier, little Tywin spoke with a clarity that well-surpassed that of a two-year-old. “I see in my dream. They fight the Night King at scary tree, or we die. Were we can’t hold life.”

Something in the boy’s features made Tywin think that passing along this message was important.

“I’ll send a missive to the Twins sharing what you saw.” Tywin moved to leave, but little Ty grabbed his arm abruptly. The child’s eyes seemed to look straight into Tywin’s soul.

“Not there. They go to great-grandma’s home.”

Without another word, the boy looked back to his toys and began humming Jenny’s Song. Standing up slowly, Tywin kept his eyes locked on the child. Observing the toy soldiers, Tywin could see that the boy had formed them into a circle with a few knights in the middle.

_Gods. I must get word to Oldstones. Who will even receive a raven there? The castle has been in ruins for some time._

As Tywin slowly exited the room, he heard little Ty continue to hum the bars of Jenny’s Song. The sound echoed off walls as he walked towards the rookery. Fear pooled in Tywin’s gut like nothing he had felt before. The boy’s words bounced around in his mind.

 _‘They fight the Night King at scary tree, or we die_.’


	13. She Never Wanted to Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They living arrive at Oldstones after a few days journey. Word from King's Landing mysteriously shows up and the living form a new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is some NSFW at the end.

They arrived at Oldstones just hours earlier. It had been a mystery to the living why the Night King never pursued them with Rhaegal during the retreat. Bran tried finding the Night King but given the urgent need to leave Viserion’s body during battle, the task proved difficult.

For four days, the living made their way south towards Oldstones with no sign from the Night King nor army of the dead. According to Bran, the dead were two days behind them. The wights pace continued to lag in comparison to the living. Death had all the time in the world.

By the time the living arrived at Oldstones, the soldiers were exhausted and weathered. They were ill-equipped with no tents nor bedrolls. Most had left behind their armor and warmer clothing just north of the Twins at the encampment.

Jaime paced before Brienne in one of the abandoned rooms at the ruined castle. “We need to go where we couldn’t hold life. That’s what the red priestess told Jon. Where is this woman anyway!? Wasn’t she supposed to be there for some purpose?”

Brienne sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Jaime. You need to calm down. It won’t do any good carrying on like this.”

Sitting abruptly beside Brienne, Jaime buried his head in his flesh hand. “I failed. I couldn’t figure it out.”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne’s head snapped to him. She cupped his cheeks and waited for him to look to her. Her eyes were earnest as she met his. “You have not failed anyone. The plan worked, but none of us could have predicted this. We had the advantage after the first battle. That creature is much more strategic and powerful than even Bran realized.”

Jaime’s eyes still held a distant and despondent expression. It wasn’t the cocky and teasing sparkle that Brienne was accustomed to seeing.

They sat in companionable silence for some time before a raven landed on the window of the dilapidated castle. As the bird landed, small pieces of loose mortar fell to the floor and captured their attention. The raven cawed and a missive fell to the floor.

_What is that?_

Jaime moved quickly to pick up up the missive. His eyes went wide and he looked to Brienne in disbelief. “It’s from King’s Landing. My father’s handwriting. His penmanship is as shit as mine now.”

Brienne moved quickly to Jaime’s side. Worry and surprise fought for dominance as her heart pounded in her chest.

_Gods. Please let the children be alright._

Jaime broke the seal as they stood shoulder to shoulder. Both began to read the letter at the same time.

_Children,_

_It seems insane that I’m writing a missive to Oldstones. I pray this finds you. Little Ty insists you will be there. He claims to have seen things in his dream. Visions of the future. He said that he saw you both at the ‘bear pit castle’. He talked about a scary looking tree there, but more so worrisome was that he claimed the Night King was there with you._

_No one here has spoken of the White Walkers, wights, nor the Night King, just as you asked. The castle staff instead refer in whispers to the enemy as ‘the others’ so as not to alarm the children. Little Ty was very insistent that you go to the ‘bear pit castle’ because you ‘fight the Night King at the scary tree, or we die.’ He also said something peculiar about ‘where we could not hold life.”_

_Gods, I have no idea if this means anything to you, but he spoke like a boy beyond his year. His words were so clear, and he spoke of things that neither books nor staff would inform him of. He insisted you were at to his ‘great-grandma’s home’._

_He started humming Jenny’s Song. I swear to you, we have not read him books nor told him tales that contain any of these things._

_Please be safe. Love,_

_Tywin_

Brienne felt her heart hammering in her chest. She looked to Jaime who had paled. He took a few steps backwards and looked to Brienne. His eyes were wide and his voice barely a whisper. “I need to speak to Bran. We need to call a war council.”

In less than an hour, all remaining commanders were assembled in the remaining room that was once a great hall. As Bran thought, Tormund was not the only lead commander killed. After going back to appraise the fight, Bran observed other deaths.

Ed Tollett, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, was killed by the White Walker that Sam ultimately killed. The creature had been trying to get to the Tarly men and was able to fell Lord Randyll before Sam stabbed the creature.

The top fighter among the Dothraki, Qhono, was also killed by a White Walker. He had been distracted fighting off several wights when the creature approached and decapitated him.

Of the Night King’s twelve generals, four had fallen in the battle. Unfortunately for the living, most of the wights that fell with them were raised again when the Night King brought Rhaegal back to life.

Bran confirmed that they were again outnumbered roughly two to one. He was still unable to find the Night King among the slow-moving army of the dead. It was unnerving to Brienne that they lost track of the creature.

With the commanders accounted for, Bran informed them of his need to come to Oldstones based on premonition alone. He didn’t know why, just that they needed to make camp there before moving on.

Jon then shared what the red priestess told him. Davos hadn’t seen the woman since they departed Winterfell, but he admitted to doing little to look for her. He and Melisandre did not get along after their time together serving Stannis.

Jaime then shared the letter that he and Brienne received. At the information, the room grew silent. Even Bran seemed shocked at the statements from the young boy. “I was confident he had the sight, but I’m surprised how accelerated his abilities are. He is so young; I had not realized. With what I’ve seen, it makes sense now.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime shook his head and looked back to the missive. “Why Harrenhal? I know its in ruins, but what does that have to do with what the red priestess said?”

Something flashed in Bran’s eyes. An understanding that seemed to hit him sharply. “It makes sense for many reasons. I see it. Harrenhal was a dark history. King Harren the Black ordered its construction. He was the last King of the Iron Islands and the Riverlands. It took near forty years to build the castle and countless men died during its construction. Some believed he used human blood in the mortar.”

Brienne’s stomach turned at the tale Bran was telling. She always felt unnerved near Harrenhal, and when she and Jaime were there as captives, she felt a presence that could not be explained. When Roose commanded that she remain behind while Jaime continued south to King’s Landing, Brienne knew that she would die there.

Bran’s eyes seemed to flicker with an array memories as he continued. “When Harrenhal was finally completed, Aegon Targaryen landed on the shores of Westeros to begin his Conquest. Life was never sustained at the castle. Major battles and loss of life occurred on or near the grounds. Every lord or lady to claim Harrenhal died soon after being granted the holding. Near a dozen rulers failed to maintain life there. The castle fell to ruins as many thought it cursed and refused to take residence.”

Bran seemed to consider something before he spoke again. “They say the weirwood timber used in its construction cursed the castle. King Harren ordered scores of weirwoods cut down to complete the great hall and other rooms of the castle. Its godswoods was one of the largest in Westeros before then. Now it has one heart tree at its center. A most sinister looking face rests upon it.”

_The tree. That must be the tree that Little Ty saw in his dreams._

Brienne nodded as she took in the information. “That is where we make our last stand. I need everyone to make haste to Harrenhal under Ser Jaime’s command. Lord Bran, can you bring Viserion back here?”

Jaime’s head snapped to Brienne as she spoke. His brows furrowed in confusion and worry, but she was determined to see her idea through. Meeting Bran’s emotionless eyes, Brienne studied his features. With a nod, Bran gave her the affirmation she needed to share her decision.

“Ser Jaime, I need you to come up with a plan for battle. This is likely to be our last chance, and we don’t have supplies nor wildfire this time. I am going north to buy you time.”

“What!? What does that mean, Brienne!? I don’t like that look on your face.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne straightened to full height. The expression on her face indicated that there was no changing her decision. She was never one to use her position for power, but now, she would.

“I am taking Viserion to the army of the dead. I will kill as many wights as I can until the Night King returns to rescue his army. I will try to kill him, or at least lure him in the opposite direction from Harrenhal. Perhaps north? I don’t know. I will try to get back to all of you in time, but it is the only way to even the odds. We don’t have another way to give our soldiers a fair chance.”

Barristan and Jaime moved to protest, but she put up her hand. “I am the queen. This is not open for debate.”

The war council was dismissed, and an array of people tried to talk Brienne out of it. She refused to hear their words. This was too important. It was Dany who tried a different approach. “I am not stopping you. I am coming with you.”

“No. I can’t let you do that. It’s too dangerous.” Brienne tried to argue, but Dany took a resolute step forward.

“We can burn more with two dragons than one. I understand your plan and agree with it. The best chance we have of defeating death this is to torch as many wights as possible. Please, let me help.”

Brienne sighed and nodded in agreement. She hated the idea of anyone else risking their life, but it would be better to have two dragons in the field than one.

They agreed to depart in an hour’s time so that both could eat a warm meal and await the dragons. Before Brienne took leave, she felt a hand at her shoulder. Turning around, she was met with a pair of desperate green eyes.

“Don’t do this, Brienne. We have children that need their mother.”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne looked to the ground; unable to see the pain etched on Jaime’s face. “If I don’t do this, they won’t have either of us. It’s our best chance to ensure an even fight. I need you to beat this creature, Jaime. Please, find a way. I’ll buy you time.”

Jaime pulled her into a side room from the hallway they stood. Shutting the door, he grabbed her face in his hand and pulled her close with his maimed arm. “Please. Please, Brienne. Don’t do this. Stay with me.”

“Have you ever run from a fight?” Her voice was quiet, but resolute. She looked to his eyes and saw tears welling.

“That is not a fight, Brienne. That is running to the Stranger himself.”

“It is a fight for life. We can’t beat them when they outnumber us like this. We don’t know where he went. What if he went to raise more dead? How many of the dead will Sam cut down? How many will an injured Arya fell? How many will the wounded soldiers kill? Our numbers are 60,000, but that is not full strength and not all fighters or capable of fighting. It is likely closer to three or four to one.”

Jaime shook his head and kept his eyes locked on hers. “No. You are our queen. We can’t lose you. I can’t lose you. Our children can’t lose you. How am I to tell our babes that their mother isn’t coming home?”

Brienne wiped a stray tear that fell from his eye. “You will tell them that their mother loves them more than life itself, just as I do you. If I don’t do this, there will be no life for them. I have to buy you and the army more time. I have to burn as many as I can to give you a fighting chance. I will do everything that I can come to back to you and the children.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne began to unbuckle her sword. The living would need it if she fell. If her plan was successful, she would not need the weapon. If she had to face the Night King in battle, she would take a dragonglass blade.

Jaime’s eyes went wide and he gasped. She held the sword and sword belt to Jaime. “Give this to one of the men. Ser Barristan would do it justice. You will need every Valyrian steel sword you can get.”

“No. Brienne, I _need_ you to have this with you. Please.”

Brienne sighed and shook her head. “Even Bran said that the swords should stay together. We only have so much Valyrian steel.”

Jaime pushed the blade back at her chest. “ _We_ should stay together. You are remembering Bran’s words incorrectly. I usually try to ignore everything he says, but not where it concerns us. He said the sword is strongest when together. He said that is why only me and you can wield Ice when it is divided. The true two halves of a whole he said. That sword is my heart and you will keep it with you.”

The passion in Jaime’s voice tore at Brienne’s heart. She cupped his cheek and listened as he continued. “When you see that fucking thing, get far away from it. If you must engage him, you stick this blade deep into this chest and you come back to me. Promise me, Brienne.”

Understanding the importance of the request from Jaime, Brienne nodded. “I’ll kill the Night King. For the living. For our children. For you.”

Jaime closed the gap between them and captured Brienne’s lips with his. The kiss was soft, but needy. Pulling Brienne closer with his maimed arm, Jaime’s flesh hand cupped her face. His thumb caressed her cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Brienne still held Oathkeeper firmly between their chests as her other hand rested on his chest. The kiss turned passionate quickly. Their tongues searched out one another’s as their breathing began to labor.

A familiar heat pooled in Brienne’s core that radiated out to her limbs. Jaime mumbled a desperate plea against her lips. She knew that he needed her completely and knowing what she faced, Brienne needed him too.

Brienne knew there was a table at her back. She reached backwards to place Oathkeeper on the table before reaching for the laces of Jaime’s breeches. His cock was already straining against the fabric as her hands worked frantically.

Moving his flesh hand to Brienne’s breeches, Jaime tugged at the laces desperately before Brienne’s hands joined him in the effort. With both their breeches loose, Jaime spun her around and gently leaned her down over the table. With their near equal height, it was an easy position when their need was urgent.

Jaime shoved down Brienne’s smallclothes and breeches and leaned over her back as his hand reached for his cock. Lining up at her entrance, Jaime sank into her with a deep groan. His hand cupped Brienne’s chin and tilted her face to his. Once their lips meant, his hand traveled down to her sensitive bud as he began rhythmically thrusting.

Their breaths mingled as Brienne’s groans were swallowed by his kiss. She wanted to commit every touch and sensation to memory in the event this was their last coupling. At the angle the position afforded, Jaime buried himself deep with each movement; stretching and filling Brienne. His fingers continued to caress her, sending intense pleasure throughout Brienne’s body.

Jaime sucked at Brienne’s lower lip and she could feel it swell slightly. The weight of his body arched over her back made Brienne feel grounded and surrounded by his love. It was an all-encompassing sensation.

Neither wished to find their release and have their coupling end. They moved slowly and passionately. With both their faces angled towards one another, their eyes locked in between kisses and the love Brienne saw in his eyes was overwhelming.

She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to beat death at his side and go home to their babes. Brienne felt her pleasure building. She couldn’t hold back any longer and Jaime seemed to be struggling with the same.

His eyes squeezed shut as Brienne felt herself peaking. When her own climax hit and her walls tightened around him, Jaime spilled inside her. A grunt pushed past his lips and his arms encircled her.

Jaime’s breathing was labored as he opened his eyes and kissed Brienne’s cheek. Her walls continued to shudder around his cock, and Jaime nuzzled her neck before looking to her. “I don’t imagine they have moon tea here.”

Brienne huffed a laugh and met his sated eyes. “No more than they have silks to sleep upon.” They remained like that for some time as Jaime peppered her face with light kisses.

When eventually Brienne convinced him that she needed to go, Jaime pulled out while grumbling in protest. They fixed their clothing and Jaime helped strap Oathkeeper around Brienne’s waist. Taking her hand, Jaime kissed her knuckles before pulling her close.

“I hate saying goodbye to you in shitty, rundown castles. The last time a bear almost killed you. Now a dead creature will try.”

Brienne wrapped her arms around Jaime and rested her head on his shoulder. With a sigh, she smiled against his neck. “If you magically show up to rescue me again, try to have a weapon on you this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For book readers here... bear with me. I elected to give Oldstones some walls/rooms beyond just the foundation/stone that would actually remain. I know that next to nothing is actually left, but since it didn't show in TV canon (which is this just a major AU for) I went ahead and gave it something.


	14. The Wrong Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran watches the dragons and their riders engage the Night King's army. He makes a startling realization.

Bran sat on a rock outside Oldstones as the dragons begrudgingly landed before him. It had been less difficult to track them this time, but the beasts had even less desire to return north than their last trip.

The day had provided some interesting insights. Bran knew that each triplet had an important role to play in this war and the future of Westeros, but his dreams were as blurry as ever.

Bran’s dreams were most unclear where it concerned the Long Night. Something was preventing him from seeing as clearly as he previously could. He saw things in bursts and with little context. Once the dragons left with their riders to go north, Bran decided he would pay a visit to little Ty that night.

_I wonder if I can find him in his dreams._

Bran had never tried to visit someone in sleep. He knew from his predecessor that others with the sight could communicate in dreams. It was how the three-eyed raven found Bran while he was unconscious after his fall. Little Ty was too young to understand however, and Bran wondered if the boy would think it another dream or as real as the visions he saw.

The sound of voices alerted Bran to the presence of the queen and prince consort. They moved from the castle ruins hand in hand. Both looked unsettled for what was to come, and Bran knew they would be weakened when separated. They were better together; strong apart, but strongest when united. 

Brienne’s plan was necessary though. Without wildfire and supplies, the living needed to even the odds. At the end of the council, they decided to have supplies sent from Riverrun to Harrenhal. Word was sent to Edmure that his local smiths would need to journey west with wagons filled with supplies that Jaime had need of.

They would also need Riverrun to supply food, medical supplies, and garments. The living soldiers had little time to recover, but they would take whatever aid they could get.

Following the queen and prince from the castle was Daenerys and the Queensguard. Addam looked as though he had seen a ghost in the ruins of Oldstones, but Bran knew that it was fear for his wife.

_Now is not the time to tell him of the babe. I don’t see a family of three, however. Only two. I hope the dream is too blurry to see the third._

As Brienne came to stand near Bran, she looked at him uncertainly. “Still no sign of the Night King?”

“Not when I brought the dragons north. He wasn’t anywhere south that I could see. I’ll keep an eye on you and Lady Daenerys from the sky.”

With a nod, Brienne walked towards Viserion, and glanced to Daenerys who was saying farewell to Addam.

Turning his attention to Jaime, Bran smirked. “I hope I took _just_ long enough with the dragons for a proper goodbye.”

Jaime’s face reddened slightly as his mouth gaped. “You really need a hobby, Lord Bran.”

In truth, Bran had been too busy to see how Jaime passed his time with his queen. Quite frankly, he had no desire to find out. It was more amusing to watch the horror flash across Jaime’s face at the knowledge that Bran _could_ know.

Moving quickly towards Brienne, Jaime grabbed her wrist and whispered something in her ear. Brienne nodded and moved atop the dragon. She steeled herself for what was to come. The queen’s face spoke to an acceptance of a fate that may see her removed from this world.

When the dragonriders were atop their dragons, both gave a nod to their small group and took to the skies. A heavy silence fell over the army gathered outside the ruins of Oldstones. They knew where their queen was going and why. They understood what she was risking to afford them a chance at life.

Bran knew that he would need to follow the battle closely. He saw it in his dreams. He saw death staring at their queen. He saw Brienne fall.

“I’ll watch over her. I swear it.” Bran dropped any prior jest from his tone as he watched the dragons outline fade into the night sky. Turning to look at Bran, Jaime’s eyes were filled with unease. He nodded slightly and moved inside, grumbling as he went.

“I have a battle to plan.”

Bran had limited time to try and connect with little Ty. The hour was late enough that Bran might find the boy in sleep. He needed to understand what he could of the boy’s capabilities before moving north.

Ser Barristan came to Bran and lifted the young lord. They began to walk towards meager remains of the castle, but Bran halted his progress. “Ser Barristan. Please take me to what remains of the godswood.”

The older knight carried Bran to the area he requested. Like the ruins of Oldstones, the godswood was a ghost itself. Bran hoped this site would serve for clearer vision.

Concentrating as much as he could, Bran’s eyes rolled back. He opened them to the blurry image of a forest. The sound of children’s laughter filled the air. As he walked forward, he could see things more clearly. Little Selwyn hung from a tree while little Catelyn worked on her sword drills.

Neither Catelyn nor Selwyn could see Bran, but little Tywin could. It was evident that Bran was in Ty’s dream. The children were playing peacefully, and it was sunny outside. Tywin smiled at Bran and waved. “You’re here. Three eyes.”

A small smile quirked at Bran’s lips. “You have some special talents too it seems.”

The little boy shrugged and hopped from the rock he was standing on to the next. Bran watched as the child continued to play at a short distance from him.

“Little Ty. I need to ask you some things.”

The young boy turned and looked to Bran with interest. Stepping down from the rock he was currently on, the boy walked closer; never taking his eyes off Bran.

“Can you see through animals?”

Little Ty smiled and nodded. “I see through a bird and a horse.”

Bran chuckled at the words. His first experiences warging were through a bird and a direwolf. He knew the young boy would never see through Hodor’s eyes. A slight sadness tugged at Bran’s heart at the memory of his gentle friend.

“Have you tried seeing through anything else?” Bran squatted to reach the young boy’s eyelevel.

With a shake of the head, little Ty responded with a smile. His words still broken, reflecting his age. “No. I like to fly and gallop. Other animals too slow.”

Nodding in understanding, Bran tilted his head and appraise the boy. “You see things in your dreams too. Like me. And the future. When you see the future. Is it clear or blurry?”

The boy’s face fell slightly at the question. “Both. I don’t like it. Scary things.”

Bran’s tone was inquisitive as he held the boy’s eyes. “What do you see that scares you?”

With a hesitant expression, little Ty extended a finger over Bran’s shoulders. “Him.”

Bran stood slowly and turned around. At an arm’s length was the Night King. A deadly smile on his face. Bran’s eyes rolled forward in a panic. He was back at Oldstones in the overgrown godswood. Ser Barristan was walking purposefully towards him. Bran's breathing was labored as he struggled to rationalize what had happened.

_How did the Night King do that? How did he know to find me in Ty’s dream? Seven hells. I have to get to Brienne._

"My lord, we need to move out. The men have already begun moving south at Ser Jaime's command. I'll bring you to Lord Jon."

Bran nodded and rolled back his eyes. When he opened them next, Bran was in a raven’s body. He circled over the encampment and Oldstones before turning north towards the area he told Brienne to head.

The flight seemed to take forever. When Bran arrived, he could see the dragons torching the army of the dead. The Night King was nowhere to be seen and Bran worried that perhaps he was still with little Tywin. His mind began to race.

_Is he after me or little Ty?_

Appraising the battlefield below, Bran could see the plan was working well. The dead were unguarded, and the dragons had full access to the wights with no threat from the Night King nor elements.

By Bran’s estimation, they had already torched half of the remaining dead. They were making quick work of the Night King’s numbers and the generals lacked the Night King’s precision with a spear. Several ice spears hurtled through the sky which Drogon and Viserion easily evaded.

In the distance, Bran saw him approaching. The cries of the undead dragon filled the night air. Looking down at the living dragons and their riders, Bran saw the realization on Brienne’s face. At his host’s distance, Bran couldn’t hear what was said, but words were exchanged between Brienne and Daenerys.

Pulling Viserion away from the army, Brienne urged Viserion towards the Night King and Rhaegal.

_She’s going to block him._

Daenerys continued to direct Drogon’s attention towards the dead. The extreme heat of the dragon’s flames ensured that any wight touched by flames would be reduced to little more than ash. Looking back to Viserion and Brienne, Bran saw them meet the Night King and Rhaegal head on.

The dragons fought for dominance in the sky, leaving Drogon undisturbed. Moving to get a better look at the battle between the wight dragon and living dragon, Bran soared forward. He wondered why the Night King had not brought the storm with him this time. So much was becoming less clear and it unnerved Bran.

The dragons were thrashing wildly at one another. They fought for dominance and were evenly matched in size. From Rhaegal’s back, Bran could see the Night King reaching for his ice sword. It was unclear if he meant to take aim at Viserion or Brienne.

Viserion tore at Rhaegal’s neck and sent the dragon reeling backwards abruptly. At the sudden movement, the Night King fell from the dragon’s back and plummeted towards the ground. Bran willed Brienne to ride away. They had inflicted enough damage on the army of the dead to make the next fight more evenly matched.

Bran could see the turmoil on her face. Flee or fight. With a deep breath, she willed Viserion down towards the ground.

_Seven hells! Get out of there, Brienne!_

The queen slide down to the ground before the Night King. The creature smiled at the realization that she would engage him. Unsheathing her sword, Brienne commanded Viserion to the sky to continue battling Rhaegal. The dead dragon was just recovering and moving against Drogon in the distance.

Bran glanced back to the dragons before looking back at Brienne and the Night King. He felt the thrumb of his host’s heart at his heightened panic. It was as though he was passing his fear into the animal.

_You can’t beat him like this Brienne. Get away._

The two moved slowly towards one another. Both appraised the other; already aware of the other’s skill from the last battle. This was not a match the queen held advantage in. The Night King was too strong, fast, and skilled.

_The sword is halved. She needs Jaime._

Raising their swords, the two came together. As expected, the Night King immediately gained the advantage. He struck left and right, sending Brienne back on her heels. His strikes seemed to come two at a time and Brienne barely deflected the blows.

Brienne dove out of the way, narrowly missing a killing blow. As she rolled to the ground, Brienne moved quickly to a nearby tree. The Night King moved towards her like a lion stalking its prey.

_Just one strike, Brienne. Land one blow._

Brienne had her back to the tree as the Night King neared her. She waited with her sword raised and Bran could tell from the look in her eye that she had a plan. The Night King raised his sword as she stood her ground.

As the creature’s sword moved quickly towards her, Brienne’s right hand darted to her hip. She produced Arya’s dagger and released it at the Night King’s chest. As the blade sailed towards him, she dove out of the way just in time.

The Night King’s blade sliced across the trunk, sending massive chunks of bark to the forest floor. The blade found its target. The steel wedged into his gut and Bran’s mind went blank. The Night King grimaced slightly and tore the blade from his gut. It ailed the creature, but did not kill him. Brienne righted herself and sliced at him with Oathkeeper.

The blade dragged across the Night King’s right side but served to do little more than infuriate the creature. Lifting his sword hand high, the Night King swung hard. His blade cut across Brienne’s left shoulder as she fell backwards in a defensive maneuver.

With a cry of pain, Brienne fell to the forest floor. Blood coated the snow and pooled down Brienne’s arm and side.

_Gods. The Valyrian steel didn’t kill him! Neither dagger nor sword._

Shock coursed through Bran as he considered the implications. _Valyrian steel can fell the White Walkers. Why not the Night King? Must it be dragonglass?_

Knowing Brienne would meet the stranger if he didn’t act, Bran knew that he had to warg into Viserion again. As Brienne began to shuffle backwards on the ground, the Night King moved forward and raised his sword again.

Bran’s eyes rolled forward and he gasped. For the flicker of time he was awake, he realized he was in Jon's arms moving south. Concentrating, Bran focused with everything he had in him. When his eyes rolled backwards again, he was in Viserion’s body. The dragon was engaged with Rhaegal while Daenerys and Drogon continued to incinerate the Night King’s army. It was likely that Daenerys did not see what was happening in the distance with Brienne and the Night King.

Prying himself from Rhaegal’s claws, Bran urged the dragon forward towards Brienne. She was on her feet again and moving north quickly as the Night King stalked after her. Blood lined her pathway and Bran could see the immense pain she was in.

As if sensing her imminent rescue, the Night King raised his sword and moved faster towards Brienne. Brienne barely blocked the blow in time, but the Night King’s sword caught the edge of her thigh. More blows were exchanged that Brienne barely blocked before falling backwards.

Oathkeeper dropped from her hand. Rushing to her knees, Brienne lunged for the blade just as Viserion grabbed her with his claws. Bran lifted a half-conscious Brienne into the sky and away from death. In the distance, Bran could see Rhaegal and Drogon locked in battle.

Drogon had the advantage. He was larger and stronger than his dead brother. The wight dragon abruptly pulled out from the fight and charged at Bran. Evading Rhaegal, Bran turned his head to see the Night King kneeling to the ground. He was summoning a storm again and Bran worried that Viserion’s body wouldn’t keep hold of Brienne in the cold winds.

Looking down, Bran could see Brienne fighting to stay conscious. She clung to her sword in her right hand as blood pooled down her left arm.

Urging Viserion away from the battle, Bran headed south as rapidly as his host’s body could take them. As Bran passed over the Night King’s army, he could see that only a small number remained. No more than 20,000 wights stood as the rest burned to ash. The remaining White Walkers followed the living dragon’s progress with their cold, blue eyes.

_It worked. We have three times as many men, although many are injured. We can win this still. He can’t raise ashes._

At his back, Bran could feel the approaching cold even as he urged Viserion’s body ahead. He had to focus on getting Brienne to safety. She would need treatment from Sam and quickly.

As they put distance between themselves and the Night King, Bran returned to contemplating what he had witnessed.

_She struck him with Valyrian steel twice, and he did not succumb to it. Should it be dragonglass?_

After some time searching for the army, Bran spotted the living. They were moving south in the direction of Fairmarket at an urgent pace. At the sight and sound of the dragons, the living looked to the sky in hope.

Daenerys touched down at a distance before the army and screamed for Sam. As Jaime and the Queensguard rushed forward, their eyes followed Viserion’s descent. Knowing he could safely leave his host, Bran’s eyes rolled forward. He was in Jon’s arms beside Arya. Bran was at the same time exhausted and relieved, but he knew that speaking to Jaime was of the utmost importance.

Looking to his side, Arya startled upon noticing Bran’s return. “Finally! You were out for long this time.”

“Jon, I need you to take me to Ser Jaime. Brienne struck the Night King with Valyrian steel twice. He weakened but did not fall.”

Both Jon and Arya exchanged worried looks before surging forward quickly. Chaos was erupting as Jaime was screaming at Sam to hurry with the stitches. As they neared, Bran took in the scene before him. Brienne was unconscious with Viserion protectively curled behind her.

Her head was cradled in Jaime’s lap as he continued berating Sam while simultaneously stroking Brienne’s cheek and imploring her to wake up. The Queensguard were helping keep pressure on the wounds while Sam cleaned the wound at Brienne’s shoulder.

“I need to get this cleaned out first, Ser Jaime. Infection will set in otherwise.” Sam was calm, but a tremor of fear was in his voice.

Bran chuckled lightly to himself. A worried Jaime was an asshole Jaime. Standing near Addam, Daenerys was anxiously explaining what little she knew.

“I didn’t see what happened! She told me to torch the dead while she dealt with the Night King. Then Viserion and Rhaegal were near us, and I assumed she was with Viserion. I couldn’t see. There was so much smoke.”

A wide smile tugged at Bran’s lips. “I saw what happened. I told you that I would watch over her.”

All eyes snapped to Bran. Sam began to place the stitches as he explained what happened. At word of Brienne’s inability to kill the Night King with Valyrian steel, the atmosphere shifted. Dread filled the space between those amassed around Brienne.

Bran recalled what he had known of Azor Ahai. Their weaponry during the last Long Night predated the rise of Valyria. It made Bran take pause.

_Dragonsteel. We assumed it was the same as Valyrian steel. Mayhap it is different, even if subtle? Mayhap the properties of Valyrian are similar enough to fell the White Walkers, but not strong enough to fell the Night King._

Then Bran remembered one of his dreams that he thought little of at the time, but he now imagined could have greater implications.

“I think I know what must be done.”

All eyes snapped to Bran. It was time to visit another of the triplets, albeit in different form.

_Little Selwyn._


	15. Warm to the Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grandfathers spend time with the triplets and have another undesirable adventure.

Tywin sat in the center of the dragonpit with little Ty. Their legs dangled over the edge of the dias as Tywin read to the young boy. They had brought a book about the dragonpit from the library as the boy insisted on visiting the ruined structure.

It was cold in the city and more snow had fallen the night prior. Tywin could see his breath as he read from the book and held little Ty close.

“Is big, grandpa!” Ty pointed at the page and the illustration of what the structure once looked like. Now it was almost entirely destroyed. The crumbling seating of the stadium wrapped around the pit.

Two towers at the rear of the pit stood shakily and connected to the stadium seating. The only structure that looked less stable than the towers, was the small section of the dome stretching out over them.

The dome once covered the entirety of the pit, but it was now little more than charred remains. It was far from salvageable much like the ruins of Oldstones. Tywin sighed as he appraised the pit.

_Best to leave what little remains and let life grow around it. Such a shame. This was told to be a most impressive stadium. Our entire army of the living could have sat here and awaited the Night King’s arrival._

“Yes, it was massive. A most impressive sight from what I’ve heard. It was destroyed by an uprising of the smallfolk. They killed the last living dragons at the time and most of this structure went up in flames. The day will come when you will play an important part in ruling Westeros. Your sister will be queen, but you’re a smarty little boy. She will need you. Keep her grounded. She needs respect from her people, but if she doesn’t hear their voices, they will revolt.”

Little Ty considered the words. Tywin found that he could have more complex discussions with little Ty than the other children. His understanding of adult concepts and circumstances was well beyond his years.

At their backs, Tywin could hear Selwyn and Catelyn sparring on the dais. The young girl’s war cries were similar to her mother. The sound made Tywin chuckle slightly as he looked down at the book.

Shaking his head, Tywin felt little Ty’s eyes on him. The boy’s features were slightly distant as they had been the night Tywin was awoken to recounted dreams of Harrenhal, the Night King, and a retreat to Oldstones.

“Little Ty? Where have you gone again, son?”

Holding Tywin’s gaze, little Ty spoke calmly. “Grandpa Sel need to catch him now.”

“What? Catch who?”

Little Ty looked back to the book spread across their laps and spoke in a dispassionate tone. “Brother.”

Tywin stood in a panic and looked around. “Sel! Where is little Sel!?”

At the question, Selwyn dropped his wooden sword and spun around. “He was just waiting for his turn to have a go at me. Gods damnit. Not again.” The island of a man called out “Sel! Where are you boy!?”

“He follow the raven.” Little Ty spoke calmly from Tywin’s side.

_The what!? Not again!_

Catelyn giggled and pointed to one of the ruined towers behind the dais. “Look. Sel follow the bird!”

Tywin’s heart raced as he followed Catelyn’s eyeline. About thirty feet off the ground and climbing higher still was little Sel. A raven sat perched atop a large window of the crumbling tower.

“Seven hells!” Selwyn yelled and ran towards the tower. The raven cawed aggressively from atop its perch. It stared down at little Sel as the boy continued climbing.

Twyin felt his heart in his throat as he ran towards the bottom of the ruined structure.

_Gods. How the hells does a boy of 2 climb like that!? How did he even get up there so quickly!?_

“Little Sel! Get down here! Do not go any higher!” Tywin called out desperately as he saw Selwyn reach the base of the tower. His friend turned with wide eyes and worry heavy on his features.

“You stay here at the base in case he falls. I’m going to climb up after him.”

“What!? No! You weigh as much as these stones. You’ll take the entire thing down with you!” Tywin barked at his friend who stood staring up at the young boy.

“I’m going up that way!” Selwyn stretched out a finger at the old rows of seating to the left of the dilapidated tower. “There is a small window at the top there. If he goes inside, I will meet him up there and carry him down.”

With a heavy sigh, Tywin nodded. He would need to keep a close eye on the boy and either encourage him down or encourage him through the window. It was evident that he was going after the raven.

_These bloody ravens are beyond troublesome._

Looking back at the other children, Tywin observed both standing still and staring up at their brother. Unlike adults, they held no fear. They were intrigued by their brother’s adventure and looked all too eager to follow.

“You children sit still now while we get your brother down. That is unsafe! We do not climb towers!” At Tywin’s words, the bird cawed louder than before. The children took a seat at the edge of the dais and continued to watch little Selwyn’s ascent.

Tywin found himself doing a quick doubletake at the pair. At quick glance, it was like looking at miniature versions of Jaime and Brienne. Catelyn sat wide eyed with wonder. Her sapphire eyes shone brightly, and her brows furrowed slightly.

Little Ty had a small smile tugging at his lips. His green eyes were heavy with amusement at the situation unfolding. Tywin half expected him to start making japes and eliciting eyerolls from Catelyn.

Turning back to the tower, Tywin saw small pieces of stonework chipping away as little Sel climbed. The structure was highly unstable, and Tywin’s heart began to hammer in his chest.

_Gods. Get up there Selwyn. That boy is not coming down my way._

Tywin was amazed how the boy never faltered during his climb. For a boy of two, he climbed as though he had a lifetime of experience.

Selwyn’s long legs propelled him quickly up the old rows of stone seating. He soon reached the top after a few slips and loud curses. It was evident that there were gaps in the flooring once he reached the top. He took long, shaky steps towards the small room where the bird sat on the window.

When at last Selwyn came into view, he tried to swat the raven away from the sill, but the bird only squawked at him and flew inside. Tywin could hear Selwyn cursing the bird.

“Gods damnit you foul creature! I will pluck out your feathers if you don’t get out of here! It’s deranged! The beast has three eyes.”

Looking down, Selwyn encouraged the boy up. Little Sel was within grasp and Tywin held his breath. Selwyn reached down and lifted the boy into the room. Tywin could finally breathe again as he watched the pair step out of view.

Making their way back out, Selwyn took a long step across apparent gaps in the flooring just as he had done on the way in. Before Sewlyn placed his foot down, a loud rumble filled the air and the pair froze in place. A large section of the ruins gave way and Tywin ran towards Catelyn and Ty.

“With me children. To the center of the pit. It isn’t safe over here.” Tywin ushered the children away from the section where Selwyn and Sel stood frozen in place. Looking back at the pair, Tywin called out to them.

“Steady now. It’s unstable that way. Can you go the other way?”

Selwyn looked behind them and shook his head slightly. “There is no exit on the other side. It seems I might be able to get us down from inside the room. There are some spiral stairs in there.”

“Be careful! Gods only know if those will hold you.” Tywin tried to maneuver around to see the side of the tower. It was a large structure, but it looked weak. Consider a two-year old’s feet were sending small rocks down the front of the tower, Tywin feared what the weight of Selwyn might do.

_Gods. I sent an island of a man to climb a crumbling structure. The dragons would be better supported up there than Selwyn._

Tywin watched as the pair of Selwyns disappeared inside. He could hear Selwyn cursing more at the raven which seemed intent on following them down. The progress was slow, but Tywin heard Selwyn call out from inside the tower.

“We’re halfway down, but the stairs look as unstable as Pycelle! They don’t have an exit point to the stands at this level!”

The raven cawed aggressively, and its cries filled the dragonpit.

Selwyn again cried out at the bird. “By the Seven, do you want to meet my dagger!”

“Follow it.” At the sound of little Ty’s voice, Tywin spun on heel. The boy was standing just behind him and staring intently at the tower. Any earlier amusement was removed from his face.

Tywin looked back to the tower and yelled as loud as he could. “Sel! Follow the bloody bird!”

Sewlyn guffawed from inside and yelled back. “You’re as mad as the children! That bloody thing is demented.”

“I’ll get you some more brandy later! Just… follow it!” Tywin had to bite back a laugh as he spoke. It didn’t take much to motivate Selwyn.

“Well… alright.” Selwyn’s voice called out and then silence followed. Moments later, more shaking occurred, and Selwyn screamed out.

_Gods! What’s gone wrong!?_

With an eerie calm, little Ty grabbed hold of Tywin’s flesh hand. “Come on grandpa.” The boy began tugging him towards an entrance to the right of the tower. Tywin looked back and called out to Catelyn to follow.

_By the Seven, please don’t let this entire thing collapse on us all._

Moving inside, Tywin saw a large plume of smoke and debris floating into the air at his left. His eyes went wide and he commanded the children to stay put. Slowly, Tywin made his way forward. “Sel? Say something man. Are you and little Sel alright?”

The sound of Selwyn coughing and groaning in pain wafted through the ruins. The entire structure seemed incredibly unstable and Tywin took pause.

“We fell through damnit. My gods damned ass will never be the same. Little Sel is fine. I shielded him in my arms.”

Little Selwyn’s giggles filled the space and Tywin again breathed a sigh of relief. He neared the edge of the flooring where a giant gap now gave way to a tunnel system below. There on the floor surrounded by rubble, was little Selwyn sitting atop big Sel.

“Truly, now. Are you hurt, Sel?” Tywin called down as he batted the floating debris from his face. He coughed as some of the particles went up his nose as he inhaled.

“Everything hurts and I’m dying.” By the tone in Selwyn’s voice, Tywin knew he would be fine. Judging by the limited injuries to Selwyn, they likely fell through near the bottom of the stairs. Only a cut on Selwyn’s head spoke to the fall.

With a grunt, Selwyn sat upright and ruffled little Sel’s head. “Gods. Now what? If you tell me to following that fucking bird once more, I’ll have you eating it for supper tonight.”

_Gods help me if I know._

Tywin scratched his chin and glanced back at the children.

_What the hells? Why not?_

“Alright little Ty. Now what?”

The little boy smiled and clapped. “Follow bird!’

Tywin bit back a laugh and looked down at Selwyn. “To be clear, the more agreeable Tywin said that.”

Selwyn waved a hand at him dismissively, but sure enough, the bird came squawking at his head. Little Sel leapt off his grandfather and followed the bird down the corridor and out of view. As the boy ran out of sight, Selwyn groaned and followed along. Distantly, Tywin could hear Selwyn grumbling and imploring little Sel to come back.

Ushering Catelyn and Tywin back towards the dais, Tywin appraised the ruins. He could no longer hear little Selwyn’s laugher nor Selwyn’s grunts of displeasure.

They sat for some time in the center of the pit and waited. Tywin looked to the sky. A light snow had begun to fall again. He was eager to get back inside before it got worse. After this adventure, it was best to spend the next couple of days inside.

Abruptly, little Ty stood up. The raven emerged from the steps at the center of the pit which descended down into the tunnel system. Not far behind was Selwyn carrying little Sel in his arms. The older man looked exhausted. He was covered in debris and coughing loudly. Blood dripped down his temple from the cut that Tywin noticed before.

“Gods damned stones fell on my head. What a shit way that would have been to die. Pathetic.”

Little Sel was holding onto something that Tywin couldn’t quite make out. Before he could inquire, Selwyn spoke as he dusted himself off.

“This little adventurer found a hidden armory of sorts down there. Got himself a new dagger! Ha! You know what I say about daggers!”

Tywin chuckled as the pair approached.

“Let me see that little Sel.” Tywin extended his hand and the young boy handed over the dagger. It was unlike any dagger that Tywin had ever seen before. It had a dragonbone hilt like the one Arya used, but it felt warm to the touch.

Removing the blade from its sheath, Tywin gasped. Valyrian steel was smoky in color, but this blade was a different hue. It had a flame-like coloring to it. Touching the steel, it was surprisingly warm.

“Gods. I’ve never felt warm steel before. What is this?”

Selwyn touched the steel and hummed in consideration. He took the dagger from Tywin and touched it to the small snow accumulation on the ground. The snow melted on contact and both grandfathers gasped.

Little Ty’s spoke at their back. It held an eerie clarity as it had many times over the past weeks.

“Close to heart. It push cold away. Push death away.”


	16. Winter in the West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion reflects on his little family. He then sees a most unexpected visitor.

Tyrion paced the halls with little Joanna in his arms. The young babe had slept well the first several days of her life, but of late she was restless. To give Sansa much needed sleep, Tyrion cradled his young daughter in his arms and walked her up and down the hallways at night. It was the only way to keep the young babe content.

The torchlights lining the hallways gave Tyrion just enough light to look warmly upon his little girl’s face. In truth, he never thought to hold a babe of his own. His entire life seemed destinated to play out as an uncle, cousin, or family friend; never a father.

Tyrion thought back on Joanna’s birth. The day had started out quiet enough. He and Sansa broke their fast before taking petitioners in the great hall.

Most of the matters to that point had been concerning looters; a harsh reality of soldiers being off at war. Many vassals needed guards to enforce their laws, and some failed to hold the psychological power over their people that the Lannisters did.

The solution was simple enough. Anyone breaking the laws of their lord or lady would face trial at the Rock. Things seemed to quiet down after that.

As the day wore on, Sansa began to complain of worsening fatigue and back pain. The exhaustion was nothing new, but the back pain made Tyrion wonder if labor was looming.

He remembered Brienne’s discomfort before the triplets arrived. While Brienne was carrying three babes and it hardly seemed a surprise in hindsight that she suffered from discomfort, the pain Sansa experienced was so similar that Tyrion had an inkling a new arrival was on his or her way.

Thinking it might be the day, Tyrion had sent for the midwife and maester. He remembered walking into their room and seeing Sansa curled on her side in pain. The quilt from the North that Tywin had informed Tyrion of was draped over her body.

Sansa had immediately fallen in love with the quilts and their little direwolves sewn into them. To know that her grandparents touched them reminded her of home.

It was an amusing sight to see such Northern items in a room otherwise adorned in crimson and gold. The room once held by Tywin and his mother, Joanna, was now Tyrion’s. It was the largest at the Rock, and truly fit for a king and queen.

When Tywin first offered the room, Tyrion’s eyes went wide in shock. He assumed that even in death, Tywin would require the room for his ghost. That Tywin _wanted_ Tyrion and Sansa to have it, was a most surprising turn of events.

Then Tyrion heard of Tywin’s dealing with Lord Broom from the household staff. Then the letters came from King’s Landing with Tywin’s loving words.

It occurred to Tyrion that Tywin’s words and action over the past year were not exaggerated nor a begrudging attempt to play at love. Looking to little Joanna, Tyrion smiled as he recalled the last letter from Tywin.

_Your grandpa truly loves me. That’s even more unlikely than me having you. What will happen next? Will I wake up taller than Uncle Jaime?_

Uncle Jaime. Tyrion considered the words and chuckled. This would be Jaime’s first proper niece. A niece to whom Jaime didn’t play both the role of uncle _and_ father. The thought made Tyrion’s mind wander to his brother and goodsister. He worried after them.

A missive had arrived from Lord Edmure a few days prior. It offered words of the living’s retreat to Harrenhal. The living sought supplies from Riverrun ranging from armor to food, but the missive lacked additional detail. The fact that Tyrion had not heard directly from Jaime or Brienne was worrisome.

_They wouldn’t have left the Twins without sending word to King’s Landing and the Rock unless retreat was unexpected and hasty._

Tyrion postulated that the living were almost at Harrenhal. That only Edmure received a missive, meant that the living were already on the retreat and south of the Twins when word was sent. It likely would have taken a few days for ravens to fly from the living’s position to Riverrun and then to the Rock.

A cold wind blew open the window at the end of the hallway and broke Tyrion from his thoughts. A light snow blew in with the breeze and sent a chill down Tyrion’s spine.

_Gods. Fucking miserable._

Pulling the blanket tighter around Joanna, Tyrion slowly made his way towards the window to close it. The castle was eerily quiet, and Tyrion guessed it to be the middle of the night. As he neared the window, Joanna began to stir in his arms.

“Ssshhh, I’m sorry sweetling. At this rate you won’t have any siblings. My balls are going to freeze up and fall off in this shit weather.”

Reaching for the window, something in the sky caught Tyrion’s eye. The outline of a dragon over Lannisport could be seen in the distance.

_Oh fuck. That can’t be good. I wonder if they sent a rider to King’s Landing and a rider here with word of defeat. Why is the dragon so far from the castle though?_

Then Tyrion saw it. Blue flames. The dragon’s shrill cry was different than it had been in King’s Landing. Something was wrong and Tyrion felt dread pool in his gut.

_Sansa._

Tyrion ran down the hallway with Joanna in his arms. He cradled the girl close to keep her little head from jostling as he moved. Opening the door quickly, Sansa jumped at the sound.

“Sansa! We need to go. Now!”

Sansa’s eye widened in fear. She looked around the room, trying to shake the sleep from her mind. “What hour is it? What’s going on? Is Joanna alright?”

Tyrion immediately brought the babe into view to calm Sansa. “There is a dragon over Lannisport, but the flames coming from it are blue. The sound of it is off. I think the Night King commands it.”

Sansa jumped out of bed and got dressed quickly. Taking Joanna from him, Tyrion dressed quickly as well. They had prepacked bags in the even the living soldiers failed. The lack of knowledge at what was happening drove Tyrion to near madness.

_Have the living lost? Are they all dead? Gods. How can this be? They should see be arriving at Harrenhal. Did the Night King torch them all on that dragon? Which dragon is it?_

Breaking Tyrion from his thoughts, Sansa was at his side again with Joanna. Tyrion slung their packs over his shoulder and reached for Joanna, but Sansa shook her head.

“I’ll hold her. You have the packs. Lets get Bronn, Pod, and the guards.”

Nodding in understanding, Tyrion began to move towards the door, but his progress halted at a terrifying sound. A woman’s shrill scream.

Tyrion felt his heart falter at the sound which resonated from inside the castle. Dashing into the hallway, Tyrion looked left to see Bronn and Pod emerge from their rooms. Both were half awake and still in their nightclothes.

“We need to go! Quickly!”

Both men ran back inside their rooms and emerged soon after with their packs and dressed for war. It was a drill that Tyrion insisted on practicing since they arrived in the West. He wanted to ensure they were prepared for a hasty retreat.

More screams were heard from the main level of the Keep. Tyrion produced the dragonglass dagger form his pack and took hold of Sansa’s hand.

“No matter what, you keep Joanna safe. You get her on the boat, Sansa. Please.”

Tears flooded her eyes as she looked to Tyrion. “We stay together. We are a family and I love you. Joanna needs her father.”

“She needs to live, Sansa. I need you to live. I will always be with you, even if only in spirit.” Without awaiting Sansa’s response, Tyrion pulled her forward as Pod and Bronn made their way to them.

The young man trained by the best in Westeros and the crass sellsword who became a loyal friend, flanked the couple as they moved slowly down the stairs; appraising their surroundings.

The main staircase was wide and spilled into the front hallway of the castle. Rows of rooms adorned each side of the grand entryway. Tyrion’s eyes darted left and right, trying to identify the source of the screaming. 

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Tyrion saw a slumped body in the corner near the entrance to the lower levels of the Keep where the cells were. As they moved closer, Tyrion recognized the body as one of their kitchen maids.

A pair of bright blue eyes crept out from the shadows and lunged at them, but Pod and Bronn were too quick for the creature. Both unsheathed their dragonglass swords and pierced the wight simultaneously.

Tyrion stepped forward and appraised the felled wight. It was naught by bones and rags. Looking ahead towards the staircase leading down to the lower levels, a chilling thought ran through Tyrion’s mind.

“He’s raising the dead of the West. Our lookouts would have seen the Night King’s massive army marching on us. This wight came from within.”

Turning to meet Sansa’s eyes, Tyrion saw his panic mirrored.

_Is he raising our dead because the living have defeated his army, or have we already lost and he is killing off what life remains?_

Sansa squeezed Tyrion’s left hand tightly as Joanna began to stir. “How many dead do you have buried at the Rock?”

A chilling thought indeed. “Generations of Lannisters. My… my mother among them. Gods. What a cruel fate if I must kill her twice.”

Pod glanced wearily to Bronn and then Tyrion. “Do we go down there m’lord?”

With a shaky breath, Tyrion nodded. “I had hoped to take the underground passageways the entire distance to the port, but it would cut through the crypt. I fear we may need to use the sewers. It comes out at the water at the base of the cliffs. It isn’t close to the port though.”

The entire group let out a defeated breath. It would be too far to get to Lannisport on foot. Then Tyrion had a thought.

“There are small boats there. We could row to the port. It would be much safer than trying to flee by land. If he is raising the dead, it may be impossible to make it safely anyway.”

As they spoke, the household guards came through the castle doors. They were bloodied and their clothing in tatters. Their eyes were blue.

_Seven hells. Sewers it is!_

Tyrion’s voice came out barely a whisper. “Run.”

All four took off running towards the stairs descending into the lower levels of the Rock. The first level would be the cells. The next level down would be the crypts. On that level, the first set of sewers would lead them to the water’s edge at the base of the Rock.

The sound of the guards followed them into the bowels of the Rock. They made an awful gnashing sound that Tyrion knew would haunt his dreams for the rest of the days should they survive this.

The enclosed space of the stairwell and narrow tunnels below only served to heighten the wights’ cries. Their strangled calls echoed off the walls and served to remind Tyrion what they fled from.

Looking to little Joanna in Sansa’s arms, a deeply rooted protective instinct ignited in Tyrion. The babe was now awake and crying loudly. It was as though Joanna could sense Sansa’s fear.

_I will protect you both with my life. I’m not Jaime, but I am a father and husband. No harm will befall them while I draw breath._

After reaching the first level, six wights awaited them. They creatures were moving forward slowly, but with purpose. Looking back to ensure the wights from upstairs were not close behind, Tyrion yelled to Pod.

“Pod. Protect Sansa’s back. Bronn and I will fight at the front.”

Sansa panicked at Tyrion’s words. “No!”

There was no time to explain. Tyrion needed Pod to guard the rear in case the dead guards caught up faster than he and Bronn could fell the long-dead wights before them. He needed the advantage of Pod’s height to guard Sansa’s back. He would fight with everything he had besides Bronn.

Pod moved into position and Tyrion charged forward with Bronn. The wights had no weapons on them, likely on account of where they rose from. The Lannisters did not entomb their dead with weapons. Instead, the wights slashed and tried to use their teeth to tear apart the living.

Tyrion and Bronn took down the threats easily enough with the dragonglass weapons. Tyrion found his height served a unique advantage. The wights could not lung straight for him. They had to bend down which cost them valuable time. Tyrion would move under and up, thrusting his dagger into their bones.

At their backs, Pod cried out. The recently raised household guards had caught up. Unlike the wights from the bowels of the Rock, these wights had swords. Roughly a dozen fought for the lead in the narrow space. Fortunately, the width of the tunnel only allowed for two wights at a time.

Bronn pushed past Tyrion and Sansa to stand near Pod. He called back to Tyrion. “Guard the front! They don’t have weapons and ya height seems a nice advantage.” Sansa grabbed the packs from Tyrion to give me greater mobility and balance.

As they moved forward again, Tyrion felt Sansa’s shaky hand at his shoulder. It was a gesture of support and solidarity. Not a request for his attention. Little Joanna screamed and her voice gave Tyrion all the motivation he needed.

Rounding the next corner, more wights could be seen shambling about. Roughly six from what Tyrion could count. They didn’t move in packs or with as much purpose as the guard bearing down on them.

Tyrion could hear Pod and Bronn fighting off the threat at their back. A loud scream caught Tyrion’s attention. Glancing back, he could see a gash to Pod’s shoulder. The passageway was too narrow for a proper swordfight. Between Bronn and Pod, their shoulders were too wide to properly swing through or deflect blows.

“Pod! Switch with me. Quickly!”

Doing as he was told, Pod moved past Tyrion. The young man charged ahead to the first long-dead wight in their path. Pod and Bronn had felled five before Tyrion joined Bronn.

Placing Tyrion at Bronn’s side gave the sellsword better range to cut across and block without obstruction. Tyrion kept low and jabbed up at the household guards that now found themselves allied with the Night King.

Tyrion could hear Pod slicing through the wights before them as Tyrion fought while backpedaling. He and Bronn had felled three more wights, but not before Bronn took a nasty slash to the face. The sellsword’s blood dripped onto Tyrion’s head as the wove back and forth across each other.

The final four wights lurched towards them. One managed to knock Tyrion into the wall. The dead guard crawled over Tyrion’s body as blood dripped down the wight’s face. It was a suffocating and frightening sensation.

_Fuck!_

The weight of the wight pinned Tyrion’s arms below him. He couldn’t angle the dragonglass blade to jam into the wight’s ribs. As Tyrion squirmed under him, the wight tried to bite at Tyrion’s face.

The creature bit down on Tyrion’s nose and right cheek. Before he could do too much damage, the creature fell lifelessly on top of him and Bronn yanked Tyrion out from under the wight’s body.

As Bronn pulled Tyrion backwards, another dead guard stabbed Bronn in the gut. The sellsword doubled over in pain and Tyrion watched in horror as the creature raised his arm to land a killing blow.

Abruptly, the wight fell and Tyrion realized that a dragonglass blade from over Bronn’s shoulder had pierced the creature’s eye. Sansa.

_Seven hells. I love her._

Sansa stood shaking with the weapon in hand. Now only two dead guards remained which Bronn and Tyrion were able to dispose of quickly enough. Pod had finished cutting down the wights roaming the corridor and the pathway to the next set of stairs was clear.

Appraising Bronn, Tyrion felt panic rise. He would need proper care for his wound. The fact that he could still stand and fight was a small miracle. When Pod noticed the severity of Bronn’s wound, he yelled at the man to take the lead.

It was apparent that any severe threats would come from levels above and at their backs. They continued making their way towards the next stairwell which descended into the crypts.

Bronn began to struggle to breathe as they continued further down into the bowels of the Keep. Grabbing the Bronn’s arm, Tyrion met his eyes. “You keep fighting! We’ll get you treatment once we get to the boat. Leave it to my wife to remember to pack medical supplies.”

An uneasy laugh pushed past Bronn’s lips as they descended the stairs. It was the first time that Tyrion had seen fear in the sellsword’s usually confident eyes.

As soon as the fear was there, it was gone. Bronn tried to make light of the situation in a way that only he could. “Ya think we can find a nice whore to redirect me blood flow?”

Were it not for the sight of nearly twenty wights milling about when they reached the next level of the tunnels, Tyrion might have laughed.

Looking behind him, Tyrion observed that all the wights were before them. “Bronn. Get behind us. Pod and I will lead the way.”

Before the man could argue, Pod and Tyrion moved past Bronn and began fighting with everything they had. Roughly ten feet ahead, Tyrion could see the first sewer cover that would serve as their escape route.

Pod and Tyrion pushed forward and killed some of the wights shambling towards them. They were halfway to the cover and Tyrion felt hope blooming in his gut. Then Tyrion heard clanging armor coming from the level above and towards the stairs.

_Fuck me. More recently raised guards._

Charging forward, Pod and Tyrion felled the wights that blocked the sewer. Other wights were quickly approaching, and Tyrion yelled back to Bronn to get the sewer cover while he and Pod held off the dead.

Bronn could do little more than grunt in acknowledgement. Tyrion could tell that the man was fading quickly. Bronn was always a talker and hearing him reduced to little more than a grunt was worrisome.

The sellsword removed the cover and held Joanna while Sansa hung down and dropped into the sewer system. The sewers were only seven feet tall and Tyrion knew it wouldn’t be too problematic of a drop.

Tyrion remembered Selwyn practically ducking at points when they laid siege on the Rock to rescue Tywin. Given what they faced now, Tyrion would have done anything to have Brienne’s father at their side.

Bronn yelled back to Tyrion. “Come on! Get down there. More guards are comin’.”

Pod felled another wight that nearly clawed through Tyrion’s neck. Before Tyrion moved to enter the sewer system, Bronn got on his belly and helped ease Joanna down to Sansa’s awaiting arms. Next, Bronn helped Tyrion down so that the drop wasn’t as dangerous for him.

Once in the sewer, Tyrion looked up at the sellsword and yelled for him to jump down. The sellsword looked over his shoulder and spoke to Pod. “Get down now, Pod! Hurry.” The sound of rapidly approaching dead guard caught Tyrion’s attention.

_Fuck. They made it to Bronn and Pod._

Pod hung over the ledge and fell the rest of the way into the sewer below. They all looked up at Bronn, but he didn’t move. With wide eyes, Bronn turned back and whispered. “Fuck me.”

Bronn looked down and shook his head. “Gotta close the sewer covers. Write songs about me ya.” At his words, Bronn pulled back the sewer cover with great effort.

Tyrion and Pod screamed up at the man, but the sound of sword cutting through flesh was the only response they received. Blood began to drip through the small holes in the cover above their heads and Tyrion choked back a sob.

Sansa grabbed his shoulder as Joanna continued to scream. “Tyrion. I’m sorry. We need to go. Now.”

Tyrion heard the wights pound on the cover and he knew it was time to run again. They made their way through the sewer system as quickly as possible. The Rock was massive and the sewers seemed to stretch on forever. As expected, they faced no more threats as they reached the water.

Moving outside, Tyrion was overwhelmed by how cold it was. Pod helped Sansa down as Tyrion ran ahead to ensure the rowboats were still there. They typically kept a few just at the base of the cliffs which extended up towards the Rock.

When he found them tethered off in the usual spot, Tyrion looked back to Sansa and Pod urgently. “Come on, Pod. Help me get this into the water.”

The men moved the small rowboat towards the water’s edge before Tyrion helped Sansa and little Joanna in. It was the first time Tyrion noticed that Sansa had been crying. Silent tears streamed down her face and Tyrion swallowed thickly.

He hated seeing Sansa cry. Their relationship had changed a lot over the years, but Tyrion’s protective response to seeing Sansa cried remained the same. Memories of Sansa crying in King’s Landing at the word of her family’s murder at the Red Wedding still haunted him.

Once Sansa was in the boat, Tyrion got in and Pod pushed them off the shoreline. The water was strangely calm. Ordinarily that would have worried Tyrion, but given it was enabling their safe escape, he cared not.

Tyrion grabbed Sansa’s hand and kissed it tenderly. “I’m so sorry that you and Joanna had to endure all that. I promise we’ll keep you both safe.”

Sansa’s eyes moved towards Lannisport and more tears spilled. Tyrion followed her eyeline and gasped. The port was ablaze. Any life in Lannisport was likely no more. The West’s greatest holdings were going up in flames.

Sansa sobbed and rocked Joanna in her arms. “We faced a small number of those _things_ and we lost Bronn. He died for us and he was the best fighter among us. Our army was facing over 100,000 of them. They obviously lost a dragon. They’re likely all dead. Joanna may grow up safely across the Narrow Sea, but she will never know her aunts and uncles.”

Tyrion grabbed Sansa’s face and shook his head. “No. No, Sansa. We don’t know yet, my love. The Night King could be trying to raise more because he is losing. The West is close enough to Harrenhal. It would make sense that he came here to raise his army anew. We need to have faith in our army.”

At Tyrion’s words, Sansa only sobbed harder and little Joanna cried louder than before. Shushing the little girl, Sansa moved her to the breast to nurse that babe. She snuggled Joanna close as Tyrion produced blankets from their pack. He covered Sansa and Joanna and held them close.

Sansa sniffled and rested her head on Tyrion’s. “What do we do now? The ships are all destroyed. We can’t row to Essos.”

Tyrion sighed and considered their options. As his mind worked to come up with a plan, he sent a silent prayer to the Seven.

_Gods. Please let Jaime and Brienne be alive. Let them have a plan for this._


	17. Where We Could Not Hold Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime learns more from Bran as the living arrive Harrenhal

The living arrived at Harrenhal feeling exhausted and hungry, but their spirits were high. When word circulated that their queen and Lady Daenerys nearly decimated the entirety of the Night King’s army, hopeful cheers and songs rung out as they marched south.

The commanders didn’t have the heart to tell the men that Valyrian steel could not fell the Night King. They needed the men to fight with hope and purpose. Bran studied Brienne’s battle with the Night King again and concurred that ‘dragonsteel’ must be a different metal of the same family as Valyrian steel.

The Night King was weakened by Brienne’s two blows with Valyrian steel, but it was obviously not enough. Jaime hoped it meant that everyone with Valyrian steel could come together in a united effort to defeat him. It was the first time that Jaime lamented leaving his father and Selwyn behind in King’s Landing. Their blades seemed destined for this fight, but Bran insisted that it wouldn’t be enough.

_‘There must be another. A different metal will join this fight.’_

Jaime felt as though he was slowly coming undone. He was dealing with the burden of planning a final battle, solving Bran’s continued riddles, figuring out what would kill the Night King, and worrying after Brienne.

After making their way past some abandoned farms, the living secured a few wagons for Bran, the most gravely wounded, and their queen. For the first three days of travel, milk of the poppy kept Brienne in a dreamlike state. She mumbled about something that Jaime could not understand, but he refused to leave the side of the wagon.

Brienne’s wounds were not life-threatening, but they were deep and would greatly impair her range in the battle to come. On the fourth day into their travel south, Brienne awoke. Jaime had never felt more relieved in his life. The sight of her blue eyes took his breath away. Eyes he feared never seeing again.

Walking beside the wagon, Jaime had not heard her wake at first. It wasn’t until Bran spoke that he realized Brienne was conscious.

“There you are. For a moment, I feared we might lose this war.” Bran’s tone was light despite the severity of the situation. At the sound of Brienne’s garbled response, Jaime ran around the back of the wagon and jumped in.

“Brienne! Gods! What were you thinking!?” Rushing to her side, Jaime pulled her into an embrace. She felt weak against him; her arms struggling to grasp as he held her close.

“I tried to end it. It almost worked.”

Jaime pulled back from the embrace and scowled at her. “Almost!? You _almost_ died, Brienne. Were it not for this weird boy, you would have been fighting against me in the next battle.”

Bran had scoffed at his side as Brienne sighed before teasing. “Gods. You wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“It’s not funny… but this just goes to show that I am going to win our bet with Ser Barristan.” Holding Brienne close, Jaime kissed away his fears.

_I couldn’t have done it if she moved against me as one of those things. I would have died._

Now as they arrived at Harrenhal just under a fortnight after leaving Oldstones, Jaime sat in the bear pit lost in thought. He had an idea in mind and had spent the first hours after their arrival scouting the area. The requested supplies from Riverrun had yet to arrive and the men were eager to receive food.

The army had spent the past weeks taking what food they could find from abandoned villages and farms. They hunted in the woods and fished near-frozen waters. Desperation was beginning to set in. In absence of wagons from Edmure with supplies, Brienne sent small parties to nearby villages and farms to procure more food.

Sitting in the pit, Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose. He used the tip of his sword to carve lines through the dirt, outlining his battleplan. It was ironic to Jaime that the very place where his life started anew, was the place that may extinguish it.

According to Bran, the few wights and White Walkers remaining were roughly six days out due to their slow march. Unfortunately, Bran had not been able to find the Night King during their travels south.

_I thought he could see everything. Why can’t he find this thing?_

The sound of approaching voices at the entrance of the pit broke through Jaime’s thoughts. Looking up from his outlines in the dirt, Jaime saw Jon carrying Bran. Ned Stark’s nephew had a worried expression on his face as they entered the pit.

“What’s going on?”

Jon sighed and placed Bran down on the ground near Jaime. Jaime searched the boy’s eyes. Fear tugged at Bran’s features. It was a look he had only seen once before on the young boy’s face. The day he pushed Bran from the tower.

“Bran? What’s wrong?”

The young man looked into Jaime’s eyes. It was as though he was looking straight into Jaime’s soul. “I understand now why I can’t find him. Little Tywin told me, or rather, he showed me.”

The words confused Jaime. Little Ty was in King’s Landing with his siblings, grandfathers, and Genna. “I don’t understand.”

_How could Ty show Bran anything?_

“Little Tywin is different. He sees things as I do. At first, I thought he merely had visions like my friend, Jojen Reed. It wasn’t until recently that I realized your son is a greenseer.”

At the words, Jaime bristled. He didn’t understand much of what Barn was, but he understood what a greenseer was, or rather, tales of what they were.

Bran continued as the plainly stated fact hit Jaime like a punch to the gut. “Like me, little Tywin dreams of what may come to pass, and he can warg. When you told me of his letter, I visited him in his dreams so that I could understand his abilities. The Night King was there. The Night King has been there every time I visit Ty. I don’t know why, but the Night King is watching him. I think the creature believes that if he kills me like the three-eyed raven before me, that I will transfer my ability to Ty.”

Jaime felt his breathing falter. “What!? Don’t! Please, don’t do that.” Jon seemed to share Jaime’s hesitance at the thought but said nothing.

Bran raised his hand. “I won’t. I wouldn’t do that. He is too young, but… I just visited Ty now. He helped me see it. I looked into the past and I finally understand.”

Jaime shook his head, trying desperately to make sense of what he was hearing. Before he could lash out in frustration, the young lord spoke more plainly.

“I couldn’t find the Night King because _he_ was clouding my sight. The Children of the Forest worshiped the old gods. Their leaders were powerful greenseers. Greenseers like me who could see past, present, and glimpses into the future. They could warg as I can, and as little Tywin can. The Children’s greenseers were more powerful than their human counterparts, however. They could use sorcery to control the elements and vanquish their enemies.”

Taking pause, Bran breathed deeply before continuing. “It was the only way the Children could protect themselves from the giants and the First Men. As part of their worship of the old gods, the Children carved faces into the sacred weirwoods. The First Men thought the Children were using the trees to spy on them, and they began to cut them down out of fear. That action prompted a war. It was the Children who created the Night King. They created the Night King to protect them from the First Men. The Night King _was_ one of the First Men.”

_Gods. He was a man? What did they do to him?_

As if sensing Jaime’s line of questioning, Bran provided more context. “When the Children of the Forest made the Night King, they used dragonglass to turn him from a human into what you see now. They bound him to a weirwood and shoved the spear into his heart. It wasn’t ordinary dragonglass though.”

Sighing and shaking his head, Bran looked distantly over Jaime’s shoulder. Bran’s voice betrayed his frustration with himself. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. My predecessor showed me, but I didn’t understand. The formations. The Children used ritualistic formations. Symbols. I thought little of it, but I see now that they used those symbols as part of the spells they cast. Their Children found a way to _hide_ themselves through the spells by clouding humans with the sight. It is how the Children kept my predecessor’s location hidden from the Night King for so long.”

“The dragonglass they inserted into the Night King had spells cast into it as part of the ritual. They wished to have the Night King help conceal them from those who meant them harm. They needed to make him a powerful greenseer than any among the First Men. The First Men had greenseers like me and little Ty.”

Bran huffed a small laugh as he next spoke. “Your son likely gets the sight from Brienne’s line, which connects to the First Men. I think little Ty might be the only greenseer that descends from the Valyrians, Andals, _and_ the First Men. I don’t know if that is why Ty is less vulnerable to the Night King’s abilities. I don’t know…”

Bran closed his eyes in frustration before continuing. “When the Night King was still man, he was already a greenseer. I don’t know if the Children realized it at the time, but when they created him, they gave him power that far eclipsed their own. He turned on them.”

_But the living beat him once. He must have some weakness._

Jaime’s thoughts were interrupted by Bran’s next words. “He has the power to control the elements as you’ve seen. He has the power to cloud the vision of other greenseers, just as he has been clouding my vision. Preventing me from finding him. He is using those spells bound through ancient symbols and rituals to keep me from seeing him clearly.”

“Somehow your son’s dreams remain clearer than mine. He told me where the Night King went the night that Queen Brienne and Daenerys attacked his army. He knew before it happened. The Night King went to the Vale to kill everyone in his path and raise the dead.”

Jaime felt his breath catch at the words. “You mean… he has more than 20,000 again?”

The look in Bran’s eyes gave Jaime the answer he sought. “He has been to the Vale, Riverrun, the West, Oldtown, Starfall, Sunspear, and Stonehelm. He knows. He is targeting our evacuation routes. He will be at Storm’s End soon and then…”

Bran took pause and met Jaime’s eyes. The Stranger’s hand seemed to be tightening around Jaime’s throat and his voice came out in a whisper. “King’s Landing.”

Bran nodded solemnly. “His army is the largest it has ever been. The dead march from all sides now. They are closing in on us like a vice grip. He knows we would come here. Where we could not hold life.”

Jaime jumped up from his crouched position. “I need to go to King’s Landing. I need to get my children.”

Bran nodded. “I’m sorry. I had a vision of them running in the tunnel. I didn’t know why. I couldn’t _see_ it, but I showed Tywin and Selwyn the way. Look for them near the old port.”

Panic was setting in. Jaime had to find Brienne. They had to fly to King’s Landing and save their children. Their fathers. His aunt. Swallowing thickly, Jaime turned to Bran. “My brother. Sansa. Joanna. Could you… are they dead?”

The returning look from Bran gave Jaime a flicker of hope. “I looked back and saw it. They escaped. Tyrion, Sansa, Joanna, and Pod. They need aid. You need to send Daenerys to the Sunset Sea not far off the coast of the Rock. The Night King burned all the ships at the port and they’re adrift. They’ll freeze to death without help.”

Jaime nodded as his mind raced. Before he could turn to leave, Bran spoke quietly. “The rest are gone. I’m sorry. Our allies at the other evacuation sites, including Myrcella.”

The words were like a dagger to the gut.

_Myrcella. I never said goodbye. I never told her. I never told Tommen. Gods. Tommen._

“Storm’s End? You said the Night King is on the way there. What of Tommen, Margaery, and Olenna?”

Bran shook his head. “You need to leave now for King’s Landing. You won’t make it to Storm’s End. You’ll hardly make it to King’s Landing as it is.”

Nodding in understanding, Jaime took off sprinting towards the castle. He screamed for Daenerys and Brienne, desperate to find them.

The men pointed him in the direction of Brienne and the Queensguard. She was speaking with Daenerys just outside the castle gates. They were discussing the approach with the dragons for battle.

“Brienne!”

At his voice, Brienne spun around. Her brows knitted in confusion. “Jaime. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The Night King is headed for King’s Landing. He’s destroyed all the evacuation sites and is making his way along the eastern coast. We need to go, now!”

Brienne’s eyes went wide in fear. Before either could speak, Barristan stepped forward. “I’m coming with you both. We’ll get the children out.”

Daenerys offered aid, but Jaime shook his head. “I need you to go to Casterly Rock. Sansa, Joanna, Tyrion, and Pod got out in time, but they’re adrift at sea.”

Addam looked between Brienne and Daenerys. “I’ll go with Daenerys. We’ll get them out safely.”

Jaime nodded to his friend and their small group made their way towards the dragons. Calling back over her shoulder, Brienne left Endrew in charge. “If none of us make it, Jon is next in line. Keep the men in order, and see to it they continue to prepare for battle. When we return, Ser Jaime will give the battleplans.”

Endrew bowed in understanding and took off towards the castle to inform the commanders of what was going on.

Climbing atop Viserion, Jaime felt his heart race. Everything seemed to hit Jaime at once as Viserion began his ascent into the night sky. The living at the evacuation sites were dead, including Myrcella. Sweet, innocent Myrcella.

Jaime’s mind wandered to Tommen. It tore at his heart to know that they wouldn’t make it in time to save Tommen.

_Gods. Let him get out as Tyrion did._

The dead would roll over any living they encountered on the way towards Harrenhal. In King’s Landing, Jaime’s babes, their fathers, and Genna had no idea that death came for them all.

_How the fuck are we supposed to beat something this powerful?_


	18. A Storm from the South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olenna discovers something from Margaery. The Night King arrives at Storm's End.

Olenna shook her head in frustration as she listened to Margaery. Her granddaughter sobbed and apologized, but Olenna was having none of it.

“Are you mad, girl!? What were you thinking!?”

Margaery wiped at her eyes and looked out the window. “Tommen is sweet, but I’m not… I don’t love him. I didn’t want to marry Tommen any more than I wanted to marry Renly or Joffrey. You made me!”

“You should be so lucky that I negotiated your betrothal to a fucking king. Thrice! I had no idea of Queen Brienne’s claim at the time, and I acted in our family’s best interest. Gods. You’re no better than Loras!”

Balling her hands into a fist, Margaery spoke through gritted teeth. “You made me marry a man who fancied other men. Who my brother was in love with. You made me marry a madman. You made me marry a boy king. Every time, I did as you asked. For once in my life, I fell in love and followed my own heart.”

Olenna reeled back as if slapped. “You fell in love with Robert’s bastard. A lowborn with no claim. You committed infidelity! Did a fucking brick fall on your head girl!? Your husband is the illegitimate son of the Prince Consort! If Ser Jaime finds out, you are fucked. That babe is fucked.”

Margaery’s tears fell anew, and she sobbed uncontrollably. “Queen Brienne is a good woman. She wouldn’t harm a babe.”

“Of course not, but that doesn’t mean they won’t cast you out. Strip you of your titles and birthrights. And you can forget remaining lady of Storm’s End! You better pray to the Seven that Ser Jaime doesn’t catch wind of this, and that babe doesn’t come out with anything other than a gold mop on its head.”

Abruptly, Margaery’s tears stopped. Her face scrunched in distaste. “All you do is plot and scheme! Can’t you figure something out? Get rid of the Kingslayer as you did Joffrey. Gods willing he’ll die in this war and our problems will be solved.”

Olenna slapped Margaery hard across the face. As her granddaughter looked to her in shock, Olenna pointed a finger at her. “That is treason. Don’t you dare wish for such a thing and don’t you dare ask me to murder the Prince Consort.”

Standing from her seat, Margaery glared at her grandmother. “Why not? You murdered a king! You act as though you care about the Kingslayer!”

“Do not call him that! I am the head of this House. Yes, I plot and scheme. I see to it that our House is secure. That our line adheres to its motto; growing strong. I remove threats to our House and kingdom. _Enemies_. Ser Jaime is _not_ our enemy. I will not see you destroy our House as your brother nearly did. Now, I am going to get some fucking wine because you just made some startling disclosures that I am far too sober to confront. Stay here!”

Olenna stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Her mind was a swirl of thoughts, none of which ended well for her line.

_Gods. This will destroy our House. That babe will come out with black hair in true Baratheon form. We’re fucked. Mace is useless. Far too old and dumb to remarry. Gods damnit. I’ll need to consider some of the more pathetic kin to name as heir._

Olenna walked the halls and considered the exchange with Margaery. She had been just as surprised as Margaery at her strong defense of Jaime.

_Troublesome boy. Always charming his way into people’s hearts uninvited. Gods, keep him safe._

Making her way to the main level, Olenna moved towards the hall for some wine and cheese. She had lost all track of time since the long night arrived. The thought called to mind her latest series of missives with Genna. The latest arrived only a day prior.

_Olenna,_

_I hope this missive finds you well. I am not. I’ve been stuck in this bloody Keep with five children. The triplets, my brother, and Selwyn. The dolt grandfathers took the children on another of their grand adventures. They misplaced little Sel at the dragonpit. The boy ended up climbing the ruins some thirty plus feet off the ground._

_Of course, they sent Selwyn up after him. That’s like asking Drogon to gently sit on a sheep. The Selwyns fell through a damn staircase trying to get back down. Luckily little Sel was unharmed. Even found himself a new dagger for his troubles. Leave it to the grandfathers to let a child walk around with a fucking dagger. The child practically sleeps with it under his pillow._

_Don’t even get me started on the big one’s recovery effort. By the Seven I have never heard a man bitch so much about his back and arse in all my life. My once useful brother only encourages his friend. The pair of them are exhausting. Perhaps worse than the children if I’m being honest._

_I look forward to the dead’s defeat, but if this goes on much longer, I may wish to join them. Send aid. Preferably in the form of cheese and wine._

_Genna_

Olenna chuckled at the memory of the letter. The women had taken to writing one another during their regularly scheduled teatime. The maesters at both Keeps grew tired of the constant use of ravens in ‘less than hospital conditions’.

Moving into the great hall, Olenna was surprised to see Tommen there. The boy was idly pushing around a piece of lemon cake with his fork. He smiled warmly at Olenna’s arrival and stood to bow in greeting.

_Gods. He truly is a sweet boy. Nothing like his mother. Far less annoying than his father._

“Tommen. What brings you here at this hour. Whatever fucking hour it may be. I’ve lost track.”

The young man chuckled and extended a hand indicating Olenna should sit with him. “Would you like some lemon cake. I can’t seem to finish. Been at it for some time.”

“Gods, no. Sweets are lovely, but the pleasantries they afford die at the stomach. Pleasantries of wine however die at the chamber pot. I prefer my vices last a bit longer.” Olenna reached for the wine canter in the middle of the table and poured herself a glass.

“You look troubled. What bothers you?”

At Olenna’s inquiry, Tommen frowned slightly. “It’s nothing.”

“Come now, boy. Tell me. I’m your grandmother now. It’s my job to listen to you bitch and moan.”

She watched as Tommen smiled slightly but struggled to put words to his thoughts. With a sigh, he met Olenna’s eyes. “Do you think that Margaery could ever grow to love me?”

_Seven hells. There is not enough wine in this bloody Keep for today’s topics._

“What would make you ask such a thing!? She is your wife. You’ve been wed over a year now and your babe grows in her belly.”

Tommen chuckled lightly and raised a challenging brow. “I know that I’m young Lady Olenna, but I’m not dumb.” He looked around the hall and lowered his voice to a whisper. “She is your heir and granddaughter. I’m certain you _know_.”

Olenna reeled back slightly. She appraised Tommen’s face, but saw no malice in his eyes. Only acceptance.

“I know more things than most give me credit for. It would seem… hypocritical… of me to think ill of the babe, but it does hurt. I will protect them, but my _uncle_ can be a bit protective where it concerns his kin.”

A newfound respect for the boy blossomed in Olenna’s chest. She leaned back in her chair and appraised him. With a heavy sigh, she looked to the window. “I did not keep this from you child. I only just learned moments earlier.”

With a shrug, Tommen looked to his plate. “It’s no matter. I just… did she ever care for me? Is there any hope?”

Olenne rubbed at he chin in contemplation. “I’ve leaned a great many things in my years. Love is one that I have yet get a grasp on. Love makes people do foolish things. Unpredictable things. It has no concept of reason, duty, honor, nor time. It is relentless in its pursuit of fulfillment, no matter the cost. Your _uncle_ is proof enough of that. I see that quality in you as I see it in him. You love deeply. I wish that I could tell you that your love is requited. Mayhap in time, but not now. No. I’m sorry, Tommen.”

The young man frowned slightly and nodded in acceptance. “I appreciate your honesty. You have my word that this stays here with us. I will follow Margaery’s lead. May I walk you to our room, or do you plan to stay here a while longer?”

Squeezing Tommen’s arm as he stood and bowed, Olenna smiled sadly at him. “I will stay a while longer. I’ve a lot to digest on this matter myself. Rest well, Tommen. We have a long night ahead of us. Pun intended.”

A small smile tugged at Tommen’s lips as he moved from the room. Olenna sighed and pushed away the wine cup before her.

_To pure for this world. He doesn’t deserve this. Gods. What has Margaery done?_

Looking back to the window, a strange spark of light caught her eye. Olenna stood from her chair and moved closer to inspect it.

_What is that?_

The outline of a dragon moving from the south came into view. It spewed blue flame down onto the ground below. With it, a storm blew towards them from the south. Snow nearly masked the outline of the great beast in the sky.

_By the Gods. Death is here. Have the living fallen!?_

Olenna moved quickly to the halls and called for the staff. She moved upstairs to Margaery’s room. Upon entry, the girl was curled on the bed crying.

“Get up! The dead are here!” At Olenna’s words, Margaery’s head snapped towards the window. Without further hesitation, Margaery moved quickly to dress in heavier layers.

Olenna moved down the hall towards Tommen’s room. The young couple had spent nights separately of late. It was not unusual for wedded couples, but that such young, newlyweds slept apart, it was the first sign to Olenna that something was off. It was what prompted her to press Margaery that night about the relationship.

“Tommen! Tommen, we need to leave!” Olenna shouted down the hallway towards Tommen’s room as panicked staff ran by her. She instructed them to head towards the docks. To ring the bells outside the Keep. They had implemented a similar warning system as King’s Landing.

Once she found Tommen and told him of death’s march on them, the young man readied to depart. He took the dragonglass sword Jaime had given him before his departure from the capital and moved quickly with Olenna and Margaery towards the docks.

“The people. They’ve not had proper warning.” Tommen worried after the villagers who were instructed to wait for the bells before making their way to the port.

Shaking her head, Olenna spoke in urgently. “We’ve no time for that. We need to get whoever is there out of here. We’ll sail you to Essos until we hear more of our queen’s fate.”

As they stepped outside the Keep, Olenna took in the chaos around them. Bells were not necessary as people fled the incoming threat. The distant screams of the living rang into the crisp night air. Blue flames engulfed the villages just south of Storm’s End.

_Gods. Why have we received no word form the other evacuation sites!? What of Brienne and Jaime? What of King’s Landing? The babes? Our little Cat._

A sea of humanity ran towards the docks as the bells began to toll. Mothers ran with crying babes in their arms. Young children stood frozen in fear, staring up at the night sky. Elderly couples hobbled down the road, nearly trampled by younger men and women.

Olenna looked to Margaery and Tommen. Her granddaughter was the picture of fear. Her face reflected the scene before her eyes. The state of Storm’s End.

Tommen looked fearful, but not for his life. He looked fearful for the people around them. Breaking from their side, he screamed at the men and women to aid the eldering. To pick up the children. He grabbed a young girl who stood sobbing and seemingly separated from her kin in the chaos.

“Come on little one. We’ll get you to your family.” He moved back beside them and grabbed Margaery’s hand. “Stay close. I’ll see you safely to the boat.”

As they made their way down to the docks, Olenna gasped at the sight. People clamored to board the ships. Frightened people were pushed from the dock’s edge by others trying to reach the gangways. The icy waters made the fallen cry out in pain.

As Lord and Lady of Storm’s End, household guards had surrounded them on exit from the castle grounds. The men guided them towards the private gangway which was heavily guarded.

The household guard stood blocking the private gangway as desperate citizens tried to push through. Their swords were drawn, keeping the people at bay. Tommen moved Margaery and Olenna through the sea of citizens and towards the gangway.

Tommen stood at the top of the gangway where he had the advantage of elevation over the amassed crowds. “Stop! Calm down! We need to help one another. Get the children and women loaded on first.”

At their lord’s words, men began to look around and take notice of the children, infirmed, and women struggling to not be trampled over. A degree of order was restored as people began aiding one another and filing onto the ships.

The approaching cries of the dragon sent another wave of panic through the crowd. Standing at his elevated position, Tommen ask the little girl’s name.

“Celia, m’lord.” The girl could have been no older than five.

Tommen looked back to the crowd and yelled. “I have Celia here! Has anyone seen little Celia’s family!?”

The girl’s panicked eyes scanned the crowd. For some time, no one came forward to claim her. Then at the entry to the port, a woman stumbled through crying. Her head was bloodied, and she had a young boy in her arms. “Celia!? Sweetling, where are you!?”

Tommen waved dramatically and ran back down the gangway with the girl. Olenna stood beside Margaery at the bow of the ship and watched as Tommen ran the girl to her mother.

Tommen guided the mother and children to the ship. Instructing the guards to let them through, Tommen encouraged the young family along. “This is Lady Margaery and my grandmother, Lady Olenna. They’ll aid you. Do you have a husband my lady?”

The woman looked to Tommen with grief-stricken eyes. “He went off to fight for the living, m’lord.” Olenna’s heart stilled at the words. Looking to the port, she could see that most amassed were women with children bundled tight in their arms. Their husbands likely dead or dying to the north.

Tommen sighed and looked to Margaery. “You are the lady of Storm’s End. Keep these people safe. Guide them.”

Without another word, Tommen ran back down the gangway. Olenna ran to the ship’s railing and screamed after him. “Tommen! What are you doing!?”

The young boy looked back at her resolutely and spoke in a tone that brokered no argument. “Fighting for my people.”

Moving forward, Tommen told the guards to stand down and let the people through the private gangway. He moved atop a large rock at the shoreline near the docks. “Women and children to the boats, now! We need to load up and move out! When the boats are loaded, we will bring to port the next empty vessels.”

Olenna turned to the sea. As planned, the next wave of empty boats awaiting space at the docks sat anchored in the sea. Their ship soon filled to capacity as Tommen guided his people in a more orderly fashion onto the ships. He instructed the people to take guidance form their Lady of Storm’s End and Lady Olenna.

When at last their boat and the other docked ships were full, the guards gave the signal to move them back. Olenna estimated they would save thousands, but not nearly enough. Not as many as planned.

Tommen stood at the dock’s edge and put up a hand to Olenna and Margaery. His face offering a sad, parting smile as he waved. At his back, more citizens awaited the next wave of boats that wouldn’t make it in time.

Just over the hill leading down to the dock, the dead moved on the living. Blue eyes broke through the blackness of night. Olenna cried out to Tommen.

“Tommen! Swim to the boat! We’ll pull you over! Hurry!”

With a small shake of his head, Tommen kept smiling. “I won’t leave my people. Take care of that babe, Margaery. That is the heir to Storm’s End. The _proper_ heir.”

Unsheathing his sword, Tommen moved beside his guards. They pushed through the screaming men, women, and children to the frontlines. Olenna felt shame. She was too weak to watch and turned her back.

For near an hour, all they could hear were the screams of the dying. The empty boats that had arrived at port were set aflame by the dragon above.

It was when their ships passed Tarth, that Olenna broke down sobbing.


	19. The Tunnels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Night King arrives at King's Landing. Tywin knows what they have to do.

Tywin leaned against the door of the triplets’ room with a wide smile etched across his face. The children giggled and squirmed in delight as Selwyn told them the bear pit story again. It was their favorite of course, and they relished watching their island of a grandfather play out the part of the bear.

Genna begrudgingly played the role of Brienne, but the children would accept none other than Tywin playing the role of their father. They both had one hand after all.

It was almost Tywin’s cue to jump into the imaginary pit and rescue the maiden fair. Genna looked back and rolled her eyes as Selwyn again embellished his part. He growled and stumbled around the room, swiping out with his imaginary paws and trying to engulf Genna.

The children laughed loudly and jumped at the sight before them. Little Sel jumped off his bed and onto Selwyn’s back, roaring loudly. At his unexpected entry, Genna guffawed.

“My word. Jaime certainly has shrunk in this day’s telling of the tale. He is more ferocious though!”

In truth, little Sel did look so much like Jaime. Both boys did. Tywin wished he could go back in time and have these moments with his sons.

_Even Cersei. Mayhap I could have saved her. Saved them all in a way._

When Selwyn placed his namesake on the bed, they renewed the enactment. Tywin prepared for his brave and daring rescue. Taking a running leap from the doorway, he landed between Selwyn and Genna. Flinging his sister backwards, Genna tripped on a toy soldier and yelped.

Once she right herself, Genna kicked Tywin in the ass in protest. “Gods, Ty! I don’t think that’s how it happened, now!”

Tywin smirked and raised a challenging brow. “I suppose you’ve only heard Jaime’s version then. The one where he gallantly jumps in, scoops Brienne up into his arms, and leaps back out unassisted.”

Selwyn guffawed as the two siblings squabbled over the varying versions as described by Jaime and Brienne. When Tywin turned his attention back to Selwyn, his friend began to swing wildly in a manner more like a bear with brandy in the belly than a bear intent to maul.

Once more, little Sel inserted himself into the tale. “I do crossbow!!!”

Moving to his pillow he procured his new dagger. Both grandfathers and Genna put out a hand. “No!”

“Gods, child. Put that down.” Genna scolded little Sel who looked confused.

What the boy said was, “Always carry dagger!”. What it sounded like was, “Alwe cawwy dagga!” Tywin was immensely pleased at his ability to understand little Sel better with each passing day.

Selwyn roared with laughter at the boy’s words. “That’s my boy! This one here is going places!”

Genna gasped in horror and moved to the boy. “No sleeping with daggers! Little Sel, give it here.”

The two-year old pulled away and cradled his dagger, refusing to give it up. “No! Mine!” Leaping off the bed, he hid in their makeshift fort. Since Jaime left, the triplets refused to take it down.

“Oh, by the Gods. Look what you two dolts have done. He thinks it a toy!” Genna crossed the room to deal with the child, and Tywin could do little more than bite back a laugh as he met Selwyn’s eyes.

With a returning chuckle, Selwyn moved after Genna. “I’ll tend to him. Go on Genna. Get some rest. I’ll put the children to bed.”

Tywin watched as his sister sighed heavily. With a warm hand to Selwyn’s arm, she moved passed him. “Alright children. I’m old and tired. Aunt Genna needs her beauty sleep.”

Kissing little Cat and little Ty on the heads, Genna moved from the room after squeezing Tywin’s arm. Looking back at the children, Tywin smiled warmly.

Without a word, Cat and Ty got off their beds and ran to little Sel in the fort.

_Gods. They’re going to be a challenge tonight._

Selwyn was already crouched at the fort entrance and trying to encourage little Sel to give up the blade. As the other two tots rushed into the fort, he sighed and shook his head.

“Come now, I’m too big to crawl in there after you. You children get to bed.”

Catelyn wedged herself between her two brothers and put an arm around each of them. “We do sleepover. Come on grandpas.”

Tywin laughed and crouched beside Selwyn. “If we lay on the floor, we may never get up. Come now. Out of there.”

The triplets’ smiles left their faces as they studied their grandparents. Cat spoke again. “Mommy and daddy sleep in our fort before daddy leave.”

_Seven hells._

Looking to Selwyn, Tywin knew they were fucked. Unlike Genna, they couldn’t say ‘no’ to the triplets.

“Alright. Move over. We’re just a big bigger than your parents.”

Tywin moved in beside little Sel while Selwyn moved in beside little Ty. At their entry, the children clapped excitedly and made space.

With a groan, Selwyn flopped to his back. “They slept here like this? Their boney little asses didn’t feel discomfort on this gods damned floor?”

Tywin chuckled and stretched out on his own back. It was truly uncomfortable. The few blankets spread at the bottom of the fort afforded little cushioning. He was about to complain as well, but then little Sel curled up against Tywin’s side.

The feel of the young tot on his chest halted any protest. The young boy’s golden girls tickled Tywin’s chin as little Sel’s arm came over his chest. The boy’s broken words reverberated against Tywin’s chest. Tywin knew what he said despite the pronunciation again being off. “Love you grandpa.”

With an arm to the boy’s back, Tywin closed his eyes and smiled. “Love you little Sel. You too little Cat and little Ty.”

Selwyn huffed at the other end. The two other tots had moved to flank him on each side. His friend’s voice came out teasing. “What? No love for me then? Here I thought I was your favorite.”

Tywin chuckled and japed back. “Shall I call you sweetling too?”

Selwyn guffawed; his chest shaking the other two tots and prompting little giggles from them. “You’re not usually my type, but if you come bearing brandy…”

The grandfathers japed back and forth a while longer until all five found sleep. Tywin did not know how long they were asleep for, but he was awoken by movement in their little fort. Little Ty crawled out from the fort and moved to the window.

The young boy looked to the south solemnly. Moving little Sel from his chest, Tywin crawled out and moved to Ty’s side. Before he could ask if Ty was alright, the young boy turned to him.

“Tommen dead now. Night King coming.”

_What? I can’t have heard him correctly._

The boy grabbed Tywin’s hand and met his eyes. “They’re here now.”

A chill ran down Tywin’s spine and he looked out the window. A heavy snow had begun to fall. The outline of something in the sky caught his attention.

_What is that?_

“We run.” Ty’s voice cut through his thoughts and Tywin realized with panic what he was seeing. A dragon was making its way towards the capital. A dragon breathing blue flames.

“Gods! Sel! Wake up! Get the children!”

At Tywin’s scream, Sel awoke from his sleep. Looking around to orient himself, Selwyn rubbed at his eyes and moved to the window. Tywin watched as recognition reached his eyes.

“This is it. They’re here. Did our children…” Selwyn swallowed the rest of his words, but Tywin knew. The same thought had run through his own mind. Without another word, they grabbed the children and the children’s cloaks. Selwyn picked up the boys and Tywin picked up Cat.

Exiting the room, Tywin nodded at the two Queensguard stationed outside the doors in protection of the heir to the Iron Throne and her brothers. “We need to move quickly. The dead are here.” The returning look from the two Queensguard betrayed their shared surprise.

They ran down the hallway to Genna’s room and banged on the door. Not waiting for a response, Tywin rushed inside. “Genna! Up, now!”

Genna sat up quickly. She was about to protest, when Tywin gave context. “The dead are here!”

Genna’s face flashed with fear as she digested what Tywin had announced. Throwing on additional layers, they made their way into the hallway. It was Selwyn who stopped their progress.

“The swords! We need the Valyrian steel.”

Taking detours to their rooms, the grandfathers strapped their swords at their hips and made their way through the Keep.

As they moved quickly, Genna glanced at Tywin. “The bells! We need to ring the bells!”

Turning to one of the Queensguard, Tywin gave the command. “I need one of you to alert the gold cloaks. The bells need to be rung. Everyone must get to the ships.”

One of the knights, Ser Mandon, nodded before running ahead towards the castle entrance. Following quickly, their small group reached the castle doors just moments after Ser Mandon went to give the instructions to the gold cloaks. As they stepped outside, a bitter cold and blinding snow greeted them.

Tywin watched the retreating figure of the Queensguard making his way into the darkness to find one of the gold cloaks. They waited for the horses to be brought from the stables which would take them to the docks. The city was eerily quiet. Only the flickering torchlights of homes, shops, and the streets could be seen below. Then, the screaming began.

_Where are the bloody horses!?_

As little Cat shivered in his arms, Tywin held her closer. “Sorry little one. We’ll be getting on the ship soon.”

_Where are we even taking you to? Where are my children? Gods please let them be alive. What of Tyrion, Sansa, and little Joanna?_

The Queensguard that had been sent ahead walked slowly towards them. His pace was less urgent than before and he walked strangely. Limping almost. At Genna’s side, the other Queensguard called out. “Ser Mandon! Hurry up about it! The children are cold.”

Ser Mandon looked up. His eyes were a piercing blue. Not his usual brown hue. Realization hit Tywin and he began to back up slowly. Glancing to Genna and Selwyn, he saw understanding touch their features.

At their side, Ser Preston took a protective posturing. “My lords. My lady. Stay behind me. Then behind Ser Mandon, they saw more blue eyes emerge from the shadows. Hundreds of them.”

Turning to them, Ser Preston’s eyes went wide. “I’ll cover your retreat. Run! Save the children!”

Bran’s words hit Tywin like a cresting wave reaching the shore. He mumbled more to himself than anyone else. “Just don’t forget the way.” Turning to Selwyn, Tywin’s eyes went wide. “The tunnel.”

Little Ty looked deep into Selwyn’s eyes. “Three eyes. The bird.”

Without another word, their group took off running. Tywin glanced back over his shoulder as Ser Preston raised his dragonglass blade high. He began slicing at approaching wights and felling them quickly, but there were too many.

Tywin couldn’t look back. He had to look forward. Running into the castle, he instructed Genna to stay close. Their destination was clear, and they would show her the way.

Distantly, Tywin heard the bells ring out. Whatever life remained, they were fighting back. It was likely Ser Mandon had called out the command when he realized his looming death. 

Running through the keep, they descended a level towards the cells. A chilling sound caught Tywin’s attention. Varys’ ear-piercing screams filled the hallway before them. Just before the cells, Varys had a room where he kept all manner of materials and met with his spies to keep the council informed of ongoing in the city.

“Lord Varys!” Little Ty called out and reached for the room that he knew the man to be in. Hoping they could get to him in time and provide aid, Tywin turned into the room. There before them, Varys was being devoured by his little birds whose eyes shown a deep blue. The man was twitching, barely alive.

Shielding little Ty from the sight, Tywin gasped and ran back into hallway. The young boy sobbed in his arms. “Lord Varys! No!”

Tywin felt his breathing falter at the sound of his grandson’s pained cries for his friend. Little Ty and Varys had a unique bond. Like Tyrion, Varys was a smart man. He enjoyed acquiring knowledge and scheming. Little Ty was endlessly amused by Varys and in turn, the man was kind to the boy.

Moving further down the hallway, they came to the area where they knew the cover to the tunnel to be. Just before the tunnel, they saw the slumped body of Pycelle. A small group of wights stood over the man and turned at the sound of the approaching living.

Looking to Selwyn, Tywin gave Cat to Genna. Selwyn put the boys down and instructed them to stay close to Genna. With a shared look, the grandfathers unsheathed their blades and charged forward. They fought with everything they had and felled the small group of wights quickly enough.

Selwyn then ran to the tunnel cover. He pulled it back and helped Genna down first. Handing her one child at a time, Selwyn moved quickly. After getting little Cat into the tunnel, the sound of approaching wights caught their attention.

Tywin stood protectively before the boys with his blade raised high. “Get the children down Sel. I’ll cover you.”

A group of ten wights moved forward and began slashing wildly at Tywin. He felled three wights quickly, but with only one hand, he struggled to keep the others off him.

Falling to the floor under their weight, Tywin felt a wight tear at his back and leg. Pain radiated out and he gripped his sword, trying desperately to thrown the creatures off of him.

Abruptly, the weight of the wights was removed. Selwyn felled four of the wights quickly and Tywin jumped to his feet to aid his friend. Once the remaining wights were disposed of, they ran back towards the uncovered tunnel.

“Go on man, get down with the children. Gods know I might get stuck again.” Selwyn instructed Tywin and pushed him towards the opening.

Moving in quickly, Tywin jumped down and looked up to Selwyn. The massive man leaned down and offered his blade. “Take it in case I get stuck! We can’t lose this!”

Taking the sword, Tywin urged the children backwards to afford room for Selwyn to come through. As happened the last time, it was a tight fit. Fortunately, gravity and a helping hand was on Selwyn’s side. Tywin grabbed the man’s legs and used his own body weight to pull his body down.

As they landed hard on the floor. Selwyn looked to him. “There are more coming. We need to get the cover on. Get on my shoulders.”

Selwyn got to his knees and Tywin moved atop his shoulders. Standing with great strain, Selwyn positioned them below the tunnel opening. Selwyn was so tall that Tywin stuck out up to his waist in the level above. He grabbed the cover and began to pull it back into place with one hand, but the cover was too heavy.

More wights were approaching and Tywin yelled to Selwyn. “My one bloody hand is useless. I can’t get this covered! We’ll need to run!”

Selwyn lowered Tywin back down and they exchanged wary looks. Turning to Genna, they grabbed the children. “Run. Run and don’t stop!”

The six of them took off running down the tunnel they had been shown once before. In the distance, they could hear the wights dropping in after them. The tunnel was pitch black and they lacked torchlight. They ran on memory alone.

Tywin held little Cat under his maimed arm and reached out with his good hand to feel the tunnel wall. At his right, he could hear Selwyn grunting from exertion. Selwyn carried little Ty as Genna ran before them with little Sel. She was the fastest among them.

Selwyn’s problematic knees slowed him down and Tywin’s body was no better. The attack from the wights moments earlier sent pain radiating through Tywin’s legs and back with every stpe.

Fatigue was already setting in and Tywin could hear wights drawing closer. The sound of Genna’s and Selwyn’s breathing was the only thing that indicated to Twyin that he wasn’t alone with Cat.

“They’re gaining on us. We need to fight, but I can’t fucking see.” Selwyn’s words came out breathless at Tywin’s side. Loathe as Tywin was to admit it, he knew the wights would be on top of them soon. Their bodies were not conditioned for this lengthy of an escape with young tots in their arms.

“We’ll be overrun, but we can’t stop. I can’t see a damn thing. We’re more likely to kill one another.”

Selwyn’s next words chilled Tywin. “You take little Ty with you. I’ll stand and fight. I’m near the width of this damn tunnel. I’ll kill anything charging at me or at least buy you time.”

“No! I’m not leaving you!”

“Gods damnit man! This is for your grandchildren. Take them to safety with Genna!” Selwyn’s tone was half pleading and half demanding. Tywin didn’t want to leave his friend. His only true friend that he ever had in this world.

Tywin once thought Aerys a friend, but the man betrayed him on many levels. His heart hardened after the broken friendship and the loss of Joanna. Selwyn barreled into Tywin’s life and Tywin would never be the same. There was no political maneuvering. No power struggle. No ulterior motive.

A memory flashed through Tywin’s mind. Selwyn had received word of the triplets’ early arrival. Taking his fastest ship to King’s Landing, Selwyn burst into the Keep like a storm over the sea. They spent days marveling at the babes.

Tywin felt overwhelmed with emotion in that first week. He had three new grandbabes and the children had honored him by naming one of the boys after him. Seeing Selwyn hold little Sel, Tywin felt a rush of emotions.

_Selwyn has always been a good man. A good father. He deserves this happiness and honor. I do not._

Slowly retreating from the nursery, Tywin made his way to the beach. It was nearly sunset, and he stared out at the sea. He contemplated how the Gods allowed him to live to see and enjoy this considering all he had done.

Movement at his back alerted Tywin to someone’s presence. Looking over his shoulder, the massive figure of Selwyn came into view. “Ha! There you are! We wondered at where you ran off to. I knew you would be at this beach. I’m just surprised you’re without your fishing pole.”

Tywin smiled and turned back to the sea. “I just needed some air.”

With a grunt, Selwyn sat beside him. “Well… I suppose we’ve both won that bet! We each had a babe named after us. I still think ‘Selwyna’ would have been lovely for the girl as well, but I suppose ‘Catelyn’ will do. Sentimental lot, our children!”

A small laugh pushed passed Tywin’s lips. “You deserve it. You and that bloody Stark who unwittingly brought them together. A woman who trusted my son enough to free him under an oath. I don’t deserve this honor.”

Selwyn snorted and looked to Tywin as though he had gone mad. “Nonsense! Your boy honors you because he loves you. I don’t think he gives a shit if you think you _deserve_ it. Who among us is qualified to say what someone deserves?”

Tywin sighed and looked to his unlikely friend. “You don’t know half of the horrors I’ve committed or enabled. I’ve brought nothing but dishonor to my House. Ironic that it was my son who was considered the dishonorable one for being the most honorable.”

“You did what you thought was best for you House. I can’t say I agree with your methods, but trust me, I know what you’ve done. Your reputation preceded you as it did your son. I wanted to kick you and your shit castle into the sea when I heard you betrothed your son, the Kingslayer, to my daughter.”

The words caught Tywin off guard, he looked to Selwyn with a raised brow and a slight smile. Selwyn nodded teasingly and continued. “I could have too. I’ve seen your castle. Built too close to the edge.”

Tywin snorted and looked back to the sea. Then Selwyn spoke more seriously. “Your boy made me realize that you cannot judge a man by reputation alone. Yes, your methods have been cruel over the years, I’ll give you that. Despite it, you love your boys and your kin. They can feel it, or you would not receive such an honor. You can’t change what you’ve done, but you can change what you do now. Love those babes as you never got to love your children when they were little. I intend to do the same. I fucked up in my own ways. We both erred with our children when our wives died. We’ll hold those little ones for us _and_ our wives.”

The words hit Tywin hard. He knew how happy and proud Joanna would have been seeing the man Jaime grew to become. She would have cherished holding those babes.

Then Selwyn grabbed Tywin’s shoulder, and by consequence, his attention. “Now lets wager on which of our namesakes will rule someday! It’s the only downside to your naming Tyrion as heir. I would have loved to see Lord Selwyn Lannister ruling that bloody pebble of yours out west.”

As if still in memory, Selwyn’s hand grabbed Tywin’s shoulder. Turning his head to the right in the dark tunnel, Selwyn shoved little Ty into his arms. “You keep our grandbabes safe! Go! Run!”

Tywin grabbed the boy and took off behind Genna. He tried to follow her lead as best he could in the dark now that he had no way to see. The familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed off the tunnel walls.

Selwyn’s defiant roar shook the space around them as Tywin forged ahead. The children screamed and sobbed for Selwyn. Little Ty and Cat reached over Tywin’s shoulders, begging for their grandfather to come back.

_Gods. Please. Give Selwyn strength._

Tywin could hear Selwyn’s battle cries at his back. A terrible gnashing sound from the wights fought for dominance over Selwyn’s screams. Tywin squeezed his eyes shut tight and begged his legs not to fail him.

Genna yelled out from just before him. “How much further!? I can’t keep doing this.”

“We’ve a ways to go. Don’t stop! Come on old girl, you can do this!” Tywin encouraged her forward and tried to distract her from the awful burning that he too was feeling in his legs and arms. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed together. Blood dripped down his back and legs.

“Remember at the Rock? Remember running through the tunnels below the Keep? You used to enjoy this shit.”

Genna voice came out a strangled laugh. “I was young. I had no one in my arms. I’m old now. Ty, I can’t do this. Please.”

Summoning everything in him, Tywin spoke at Genna’s back. “Give me Sel. I’ll carry all three. Just guide me out.”

“You can’t. It’s too much.” Her voice was small and frightened. It broke Tywin’s heart to hear his little sister in such a state. Genna was always so strong and confident.

“I can and I will. Give me Sel.” Genna turned to hand him the child. Clutching all three as tightly as he could, he implored the triplets. “Hold on to me children. I won’t let you go, but I need you to hold tightly.”

Doing as he said, Tywin felt three sets of small arms wrap around him. It was the only motivation he needed. It was like having his own three in his arms.

_I’ll get them out. If it kills me, I will see them to the harbor._

Soon, they came to the turn that led out towards the shore. Tywin felt the end in sight. The faint light of the night sky began to light the way. Tywin followed Genna closely as they neared the exit.

When they finally stepped out onto the frozen shores, Tywin collapsed with the triplets in his arms.

The children’s faces were covered in tears. They clung to Tywin as he knelt on the snow-covered sand. Looking up at Genna, Tywin could see that she had been crying too.

A dragon’s cry from above caught Tywin’s attention. It was the dragon he had seen earlier. The dragon was breathing blue flames onto the Keep and city below. The bells had stopped ringing, but the sound of the living screaming in the distance filled the air.

_Gods. There will be no life left._

Looking back at the tunnel, Tywin again looked to Genna. “I’m going to get you and the children on the boat. Then I’m going back for Selwyn.”

Genna’s eyes went wide. “No! You can’t leave us. Ty, he’s gone. He can’t have made it.”

Tywin knew that she spoke truth, but he didn’t want to accept it. He didn’t want to accept the sacrifice Selwyn had made for them.

Feeling tears stream down his own cheeks, Tywin sobbed quietly onto the children’s heads. “I’m sorry.”

Then, Tywin heard another sound. The sound of a second dragon. Looking to the sky, Tywin saw his children and Barristan on the back of Viserion. The two dragons were fighting in the sky above the Blackwater.

Tywin watched in amazement from the shoreline. It was dark. Almost too dark to see, but he saw his daughter stand up in the saddle. Jaime seemed to be holding her legs as her right arm was raised.

Squinting into the darkness, Tywin saw something in her hand. It wasn’t her sword, but it appeared to be some type of sword.

_A dragonglass sword._

Using the sword like an ax, Brienne took aim and hurled it at the dead dragon. Hitting her target in the gullet, a loud cry left the creature. It plummeted lifelessly into the sea below as the living dragon hovered over the area.

_Gods. My daughter killed a fucking dragon._

As if aware of where to go, Viserion moved towards them on the small shoreline. Tywin choked back a sob of relief at the unexpected arrival. As Viserion touched down, Jaime and Brienne jumped down quickly and ran to them. Dropping to their knees, they gathered their babes in their arms.

Jaime and Brienne appraised their children and sobbed in relief. Looking around, Brienne met Tywin’s eyes. “Where is my father?”

At the question, Tywin’s heart dropped. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Brienne. He scarified himself to get us out. In the tunnels.” Brienne stood slowly and swayed in shock as her head turned towards the tunnel.

Jaime stood quickly to steady her. He whispered against her temple and soothed her as she shook her head. “No. No, he can’t be.”

Tywin felt his tears flow again. “I’m so sorry. I failed him. The wights were going to overrun us.” Realization hit Tywin and his tone grew urgent. “We should move away from here. They’re likely to come through any moment. He couldn’t hold them all off. There were too many.”

At his words, Jaime scooped up two of the tots and tried to urge Brienne to Viserion. As they turned towards the dragon, a loud sound came from the tunnel. Cursing.

_That’s no wight!_

Tywin ran back into the tunnel screaming. “Sel! Sel, by the Gods is that you!?”

He ran straight into his friend. Selwyn was bloodied and exhausted, but alive. Grabbing at his friend’s shoulder with his flesh hand, Tywin pulled him close. “Gods! You’re alive.”

“Those things can’t fight for shit. Even Ronnet put up more of a fight. Where are the children!? Why are you not in the fucking boat!?”

Tywin grabbed Selwyn’s shoulder and guided him outside. He watched as Selwyn’s eyes landed on their children and grandchildren. The man sobbed and ran to his daughter.

“Gods damnit girl! I thought the worst. How did you get here!? The army? Did we win then?”

Barristan walked towards them slowly, a sad smile on his face. When the aged knight reached them, he spoke plainly. “The city was overrun, but we covered most of the living’s retreat.”

Tywin looked to Barristan in confusion. “Retreat? The people got out?”

Brienne pulled back from her father’s embrace. “We managed to set ablaze most of the Night King’s raised army from the city. Many in the city escaped and the people are joining the other living refugees.”

“Refugees?” Genna looked to her inquisitively.

Jaime nodded before speaking. “The Night King hit every evacuation site. We didn’t think anyone survived, but we saw groups moving north on our way here. The living are fighting back. We need to cover their retreat.”

Tywin felt a flicker of hope. “Where is the Night King?”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne shook her head. “When we arrived, he had just touched down near the godswood outside the Keep. The dragon lifted into the sky to continue destroying the city and we engaged it. I imagine the creature is still in the city, but at least he lost his dragon.”

Little Ty pointed a finger in the direction of the Keep at the cliffs above them. “He angry now.”


	20. Bringing Life to Harrenhal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime returns to Harrenhal with the rescued group from King's Landing. They are pleased to see Tyrion, Sansa, and Joanna safely returned. As they talk around the fire, they make some startling realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick, lighter chapter after all that recent death.

Jaime’s eyes scanned the ground below. Throngs of living refugees made their way towards Harrenhal under the cover of night. Hopeful eyes darted up towards the dragon that Jaime rode on. With little Ty firmly tucked into his arms, Jaime glanced back at the other riders.

Barristan held little Sel closely as the boy inspected the knight’s weapons that were strapped to the hip. A weary looking Selwyn, Genna, and Tywin all clung tightly to the tethers that held them to the dragon. Jaime watched in amusement as Tywin’s eyes went wide when his stump danced over one of Viserion’s scales.

Tywin recoiled slightly and were it not for the tether holding him to the great beast, he may have fallen off. Looking again to the ground below, Jaime wondered at how many living remained.

Jaime was certain that not all living in Westeros marched north towards the site of their final stand. Many were likely asleep unaware in their beds; the vast area of land untouched by the Night King and not directly in the path of the dead’s slow march.

From over Brienne’s shoulder, two curious eyes peered at him. A wide smile came into view as Cat scrambled higher up Brienne’s grasp.

“Father! We on dragon!”

Jaime chuckled at the words and nodded. “Yes. The seating isn’t as comfortable, but the view is quite nice.” At his words, Jaime poked Brienne in the ass. The return grunt of distaste informed Jaime that Brienne had heard the exchange quite clearly.

A small voice at Jaime’s back caught his attention. “Ser Bawistan. Me too! Alwe cawwy dagga.”

_Oh Gods. I can see that Selwyn has had quite the influence on little Sel._

Turning back again, Jaime’s eyes went wide as little Sel produced a sheathed dagger from inside his jerkin.

_What the fuck!?_

Barristan’s eyes conveyed the same thought that flashed through Jaime’s mind. He reached for the dagger and took it from the boy. “By the Gods! Where did you get that!?”

Little Sel whimpered and clawed for the dagger. “Mine!”

Jaime glanced at the grandfathers who appeared sheepish and tried to duck behind Barristan. With a huff of irritation, Genna met Jaime’s eyes. “These two dolts have been letting little Sel walk around with that thing!”

Brienne’s voice called back, evidently unable to hear the conversation clearly on account of the wind. “What’s going on?”

As much as Jaime was upset that his fathers allowed a two-year old access to a dagger, he knew that now was not the time to inform Brienne. She would likely throw the old men from the dragon.

“Nothing of consequence. Lets just get back to Harrenhal.”

Brienne eyed Jaime suspiciously, but he offered little more than an innocent shrug. The rest of the ride on Viserion’s back was quiet. Little Ty fell asleep in Jaime’s arms and the silence at Jaime’s back suggested that little Sel had nodded off as well.

Little Cat however was inundating Brienne with questions. The plethora of questions from Cat and the enduring patience of Brienne made Jaime chuckle. The interaction reminded Jaime of his earliest days with Brienne.

He would talk incessantly on the journey through the Riverlands. Unlike little Cat who did not intent to irritate Brienne, Jaime had.

_See, wench. I’ve prepared you for motherhood. A never-ending onslaught of nonsensical or redundant questions and comments._

They touched down outside the courtyard of Harrenhal, and the group slowly climbed down from Viserion. The cries of Drogon alerted Jaime to Daenerys’ presence, which meant that, Gods willing, Tyrion, Sansa, Joanna, and Pod were inside the castle.

Brienne seemed to have the same idea as their eyes met hopefully. Running inside with a child in each of their arms, Jaime frantically scanned the courtyard. Tyrion stood just outside the castle entrance, speaking animatedly to Jon.

Jaime sprinted to his brother and fell to his knees, pulling Tyrion into a tight embrace with a sleeping Ty wedged between them.

“Gods. We thought you dead.” Jaime’s voice was choked as he spoke.

“We thought the same of you when the dragon came for the West. Jon told me what happened.”

Jaime pulled back and appraised his brother. “Sansa and the babe?”

Tyrion smiled in equal parts relief and pride. “Inside with Daenerys. They are warming up by the fire. Pod is taking rest in one of the rooms. He took a nasty gash to the shoulder.”

Standing upright, Jaime moved inside with their small group of arrivals. Tywin and Tyrion followed close at his back, while Genna, Brienne, Selwyn, and Barristan led the way.

Jaime could hear Tywin and Tyrion discussing what had happened in the West. Hearing what his brother endured and how he fought off wights was shocking. Glancing over his shoulder, a wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face.

“You’re having a go at us. Truly? You fought off wights?”

Tyrion snorted and shook his head. “It seems that for the first time in my life, my height worked to my advantage. Wights don’t bend at the waist very well.”

A loud laugh pushed passed Tywin’s lips. “My warrior sons! I’m proud of you, Tyrion. Now, where is my little Joanna?”

Jaime watched as Tyrion’s chest swelled with pride. “Just up ahead on the right. Joanna was just waking from a nap when you arrived.”

With a warm hand to Tyrion’s shoulder, Tywin took off in the direction indicated. Jaime smirked and looked to Tyrion. “I’m losing my spot as the favorite son.”

“Well if its any consolation, I fear neither of us are the favorite child.” Tyrion inclined his head towrads Brienne who was speaking in hushed tones with her father. Little Cat was finally asleep in Brienne’s arms; the little girl’s chest rising and falling steadily as Brienne carried her.

Upon turning in the room where Daenerys and Sansa were warming by the fire, Jaime saw Tywin holding his new granddaughter. The babe was awake and cooing, reaching up for Tywin’s chin. Tywin looked as he did the day that he held Catelyn for the first time.

_The old man has a soft spot for granddaughters._

A slight mist was in Tywin’s eyes as he looked to Tyrion with a most un-Tywin like smile. His lips stretched wide and his eyes swam with joy. “A perfect name for a perfect babe. She’s wonderful.”

Tywin paced the room, talking to the small babe. The new arrivals pulled up chairs near the fire as Sansa greeted each of them with a warm embrace.

“I hear Arya almost got herself killed. The dolt.”

Jaime snorted as little Ty shifted in his arms. The young boy remained asleep as Jaime spoke. “Yes, well she was quite dramatic about it. Very annoying.”

Sansa raised a knowing brow. “Interesting. Bran had a slightly different assessment regarding who was behaving dramatically about it.” Dropping any teasing from her tone, she smiled more sincerely at Jaime. “Thank you for watching over her. For saving her.”

Jaime shrugged and tried to play at indifference, but he imagined it was easy to see through. When eventually he couldn’t take it any longer, Jaime handed little Ty to Tyrion.

“Gods, father. Stop hogging my niece. I haven’t held her yet.”

Tywin begrudgingly passed the babe to Jaime. Taking in the sight of his niece, Jaime smiled widely. She was a truly gorgeous babe. Her green eyes looked curiously at Jaime. As she did with Tywin, the babe reached for his jaw.

A tuft of auburn curls spilled out from the blanket covering Joanna’s head. With a scoff and feigned offense, Jaime spoke to the little one. “How dare you. I’m supposed to be the prettiest in the family. Who allowed this?”

Several groans escaped the mouths of those in the room. Jaime ignored them all and kept talking to the babe. “Do you hear that? They’re jealous of us. I’ll forgive you this once, even though I do believe you’re trying to upstage me.”

As the adult sat around the fire exchanging tales of what they had endured from their separate locations, the tots began to stir. They ran around the room playing with one another much to the amusement of the adults.

Jaime noticed Genna’s, Tywin’s, and Selwyn’s obvious relief to have unloaded parenting responsibilities back to him and Brienne. Jaime was slightly surprised when Jon entered the room, holding Bran in his arms. The young man smiled at the new arrivals as Jon placed him in a free chair. Jaime wished to ask after Tommen, but he preferred to do so in private; fearful of what he would learn.

Looking to Tywin and Selwyn, Bran smiled knowingly. “Good to see that you remembered the way.”

Neither of the grandfathers seemed pleased with Bran, but both huffed a small laugh in response. As he continued to appraise the men, the smile at Bran’s lips remained intact.

“And quite nice of you to bring the Valyrian steel. It will prove necessary.”

Bran’s words were a stark reminder of what was headed their way. Jaime had been kicking around ideas for defense in his mind since word of the retreat to Harrenhal was decided. He had an idea and would share it later that day at the war council, but for now, Jaime wanted a moment of reprieve from talk of war.

He was finally reunited with his babes and kin. He wanted to savor the moment. At his back, the tots became louder as they had found kindling to use as wooden swords. With a loud roar, Catelyn shoved her mock sword into little Sel’s chest. In Selwyn Tarth fashion, little Sel fell to the ground laughing like a madman.

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the mark on his tunic from where Catelyn struck him. “Little Sel! Come here.” Handing Joanna to an eager Brienne, Jamie beckoned the young boy with his flesh hand.

The young tot moved to Jaime on command. A wet spot covered his tunic picket and Jaime put his hand inside. Much to the dismay of the castle’s maids, the boy was always hiding sweets or fruit in his pockets. His garments never lasted long, and most tunics were stained as result of his hidden treats.

“What is this?” Jaime pulled his hand out and looked at the sticky grape skin between his fingers.

All attention was on them as little Sel chuckled. Then it hit Jaime. Looking to Bran, he understood.

“The grapes.” Jaime’s voice was quiet as he played with the grape skin. A knowing look took hold of Bran’s features as he watched Jaime work it out.

“Oh, by the Gods, Jaime! Enough with the grapes.” Genna cried out from beside Daenerys as the young Targaryen could do little more than chuckle at the situation.

“No. The grapes. They’re on his chest. Close to the heart.”

Jaime remembered the story Bran had told him of how the Night King was created. Dragonglass cast in spells, pushed through the chest at a weirwood tree.

“Little Ty. You saw us with the Night King by a scary tree?”

The young boy moved close to his brother and stared at Jaime. He nodded quietly before looking to his brother. Ty pointed to his brother’s chest where the grape juice had spread across the tunic. “Close to heart.”

Brienne’s voice echoed what little Ty was saying. When Jaime looked to her, she was staring at little Sel; her eyes wide in understanding. “Close to the heart. It will push the cold away. Push death away.”

Jaime nodded. “We need to stab him there. With what though?”

Tywin jumped to his feet. “The dagger! Gods, little Sel. Where did you put it?”

Little Sel pointed at Barristan with a pout. “Mine. Bawistan take.”

The aged knight’s brows knitted in confusion as he reached for the confiscated dagger at his hip. Taking it out, he pulled the dagger from its scabbard.

The blade had a flame-like coloring to it which Jaime had never seen before. Tywin moved quickly to Barristan. “It’s warm to the touch. Melted the bloody snow that Selwyn touched to it in the dragonpit.”

“The dragonpit?” Brienne’s voice betrayed her shock at the words. “What were you doing there? It’s hardly safe.”

Selwyn guffawed. “Tell me about it! I busted my ass falling through a fucking staircase with little Sel!”

Jaime and Brienne yelled at the same time. “What!?”

Genna raised a hand as indignation touched her features. “These two fools lost little Sel. The boy scaled a tower after some fucking bird.”

Jaime’s head snapped to Bran and he noted the small smile tugging at his lips. “Truly!? A fucking tower, Bran! I said that I was sorry. This is a bit extreme.”

Bran chuckled lightly in his seat before raising a challenging brow. “He’s an excellent little climber. I can assure you, he wasn’t going to fall. The man greeting him from the tower window was not _indecent_.”

_I suppose I deserve that, but seriously now._

Dropping any jest from his tone, Bran spoke seriously. “I had to get them up there. It was the only way. We needed _that_ blade. Dragonsteel. I would not have risked it otherwise.”

Understanding hit Jaime and he ran his flesh hand over his face.

When Jaime next spoke, sarcasm dripped form his tone. “Great. So all we have to do, is lure the Night King into the godswood and shove this dagger into his chest. What could possibly go wrong.”


	21. Death's Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne hears more from Bran of the Night King's intent. War preparations continue at Harrenhal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the dead arrive. Another “lighter” one.

The room they sat in slowly cleared out as the grandfathers and Genna sought beds in the rundown castle. Genna hoisted little Cat into her arms and offered to take the young tot to bed with her for the night. Unlike her brothers, Catelyn found no rest on Viserion’s back earlier as she peppered Brienne with questions.

Brienne looked down at little Joanna nestled in her arms and smiled before looking to Sansa.

“She’s perfect. You both did well.”

The young woman smiled warmly and moved into the chair next to Brienne. “Thank the Gods only one came out. I hardly understand how you birthed three. Everything hurts just thinking about it.”

Brienne chuckled and looked back at little Joanna. The babe stirred slightly in her arms before turning her head and nuzzling into the nook of Brienne’s elbow. A slight longing took hold of Brienne. She missed that age with the triplets.

_The cuddle stage. So small and dependent. Now I try to avoid hits to the face with wooden swords. I do enjoy giving little kisses to scraped knees though._

At Brienne’s left side, Jaime yawned and leaned back in his chair. The boys were curled up on his lap and fast asleep. From the look of it, Jaime was soon to follow. The firelight danced on Jaime’s face and golden hair as he began to nod off.

“Jaime. Go to bed. Take the boys.” Brienne nudged his foot with her own as she spoke. He looked to Brienne bleary eyed and nodded; sitting upright as he held the boys tightly.

“That’s what I was about to do.”

_Please. He would have slept there all night like that. Is it night even? Mayhap its day. Who even knows anymore._

Jaime stood from his chair with a boy in each arm. He leaned down to kiss the top of Brienne’s head before stumbling out of the room. “Come to bed soon?”

Glancing up to Jaime with a small smile, Brienne nodded. “I’ll be there shortly. I’m enjoying my little niece a while longer.”

“Tyrion and Sansa outsmarted us again. We should try just the one next time. That looks much more peaceful.”

With a sigh, Brienne shook her head. “Yes, well before all that, lets find the children some daylight.”

Brienne watched as Jaime exited the hall. The only occupants remaining included herself, Sansa, Tyrion, Daenerys, and Bran. Across the way, Tyrion and Bran were in a deep conversation as Sansa and Daenerys began a conversation to Brienne’s right.

The conversation that Brienne needed to have with Sansa weighed heavy on her shoulders. She had tried to put it off until later, but knowing how little was guaranteed these days, she knew that it couldn’t be put off much longer. 

As Sansa and Daenerys had a break in their conversation, Brienne spoke softly to Sansa.

“Sansa, I was hoping to ask a favor of you.”

At the words, Sansa met Brienne’s eyes. Her brows furrowed slightly as she appraised Brienne’s face. Taking a deep breath, Brienne made her request.

“This fight will be it for us. We’ll either defeat this creature or we won’t. I need to know that my children have the best chance at life. On the way to King’s Landing, Jaime and I discussed sending the children with you and Tyrion to the Iron Island. Yara has already begun bringing refugees there from the mainland. We could take you on the morrow.”

Sansa sighed and looked to Joanna as she spoke. “We won’t be of any use here while you all fight for us, but I don’t know that I could tolerate being separated from all of you again. When Tyrion and I were on that raft, we could think of little more than dying out there alone. It was just us, Joanna, and Pod; adrift at sea with only dead eyes staring back from the shoreline. I want my babe to live, but what kind of life would it be without home.”

“You could make home in Essos. Daenerys says the weather and landscape is lovely. If you live by the sea, it could feel akin to the Rock. I always loved the water growing up on Tarth.”

Brienne looked hopefully to Daenerys who nodded and grabbed Sansa’s knee. The young Targaryen tried to offer supportive words as Brienne had.

“It was nice. I left some men over there who would look after you all. They’re prepared to take in the refugees. According to Bran, the ships from Storm’s End are well on the way. Lady Olenna will be there to watch after you too.”

Sansa shook her head and looked back to Joanna. “I’m certain it’s lovely, but that isn’t what I meant by home. I know that we could find shelter in Essos. We could find other Westerosi who have fled this darkness. What I mean by home, is all of _you_. Family. Friends. Love. I never thought to find anyplace that felt like home outside of Winterfell, but I’ve found that in King’s Landing with all of you.”

With a heavy sigh, Sansa clasped her hands and stared at her lap. She swallowed thickly before continuing. “Now that I’m a mother, I understand the desire to give our children the best shot at life, but… what if it’s only prolonging death. What if the Night King comes to Essos after Westeros? We would only prolong their life in this world without you in it. How do I look them in the eyes every day, and tell them that their mother and father aren’t coming home? My chosen brother and sister. I’ve come to think you as much my sister as Arya. Loathe as I am to admit it, I’ve come to think Jaime as much my brother as Bran. A much more annoying, older brother of course.”

Brienne chuckled slightly at the words, but as she looked to Sansa, her mirth faded. Tears welled in the young woman’s eyes as she continued speaking.

“We truly thought you all dead. I wasn’t scared to meet my own death. I was scared to see harm befall Joanna. I was scared to see you all staring back at us from the shores with those awful, lifeless blue eyes.”

Sansa turned to Brienne and spoke resolutely. “If you wish to see the children safely secured at the Iron Islands, I promise you that I will raise them as if they were my own. You have my word. If you decided to keep them here, we will stay. Me, Tyrion, and Joanna. I will keep them safe while you fight. I swear it.”

“They should stay.” Bran’s voice rang out as he sat beside Tyrion across the way. The young man’s face held a deadly seriousness to it which unnerved Brienne.

Brienne wasn’t certain what to make of Bran when he spoke in such ominous tones. She wanted to ask more, but she was afraid to hear the words. Where it concerned her children, Brienne needed to understand. She had to be strong.

“What role are my children to play? They are only two. Far too young to fight. Far too young to face death.”

Bran held Brienne’s eyes. “Do you recall what I said in King’s Landing about the Night King? He means to destroy the three-eyed raven. It isn’t me that he comes for per say, but what I am. What I became. He has tried to kill my predecessors and they have passed the gift to the next. His failure has been going after the three-eyed raven before finding and killing the successor. He thinks your son is the successor. He follows both of us now. This time, he will come for little Ty. If little Tywin goes to the Iron Islands, the Night King will go there. If little Tywin goes to Essos, the Night King will go there. He believes that to win this time, he must kill us both and he must start with little Tywin.”

Panic coursed through Brienne’s body. “I will not use my son as bait for this thing!”

Bran shook his head and met Brienne’s eyes. “I don’t intend to either. What I am trying to tell you, is that he will try to get to Ty first. If he kills your son before me, then there is no risk of the three-eyed raven continuing to exist when he finally kills me. If he kills me first however and Ty escapes, his chase continues. He has learned from the past as I do. He will come for Ty before me.”

Brienne felt a fear take hold unlike anything in her life. It was like being dragged down into the sea by an anchor with no way to get to the surface. The feeling of having the last breath in your lungs, and knowing that once it is gone, so is your life.

Swallowing thickly, Brienne nodded in understanding. She looked to little Joanna in her arms and a vivid memory came to mind.

The triplets were only a moon turn old. Selwyn would scream through the nights. His roar kept the entire castle awake and little would calm him.

Catelyn was more reasonable. She cried when she had need for milk or a nappy change. She might cry if she was too hot or too cold. Tywin however, never seemed to cry.

He was an observant babe who hardly voiced complaint. He always appeared to be studying everyone as though he could read them in ways beyond his years. It wasn’t uncommon for him to lay in his crib awake, but not crying. He would look out the window towards the sky. It was strange for a babe so young.

One night Brienne entered the nursery to return Sel to his crib. He had been nursing on and off for hours on end. No amount of milk ever seemed to satisfy the babe.

Brienne had help nursing the triplets given their high demands. Little Catelyn had already been fed and was sleeping peacefully in her crib. Checking on little Ty, Brienne had been surprised to find him awake. He stared up at her and offered a small coo as their eyes met.

“Well hello little one. You are too quiet. I did not know you were awake.”

Brienne lifted the babe in her arms and brought him to a rocking chair near the window. She nursed him peacefully as she looked out at he city below. So lost in a fog of exhaustion and thought was Brienne, that she didn’t notice little Ty had stopped nursing.

When she looked back to the babe, he was staring at her intently. Then he smiled. It was the first smile from any of the babes. It would be another moon turn until Cat and Sel smiled. It became Brienne’s and Ty’s secret nightly routine.

Brienne would rock little Ty and the young babe would stare at her, smiling quietly. She hummed the only lullaby that she remembered from Tarth, and the babe’s smile seemed to stretch impossibly wider.

Brienne recalled it being a week or two after that first smile, when little Ty first smiled at Jaime.

“He smiled at me! Come look at this, Brienne! He loves me. I’m his favorite.” Brienne rolled her eyes at Jaime’s words. Her back was to him and she smiled secretively as she recalled the stolen nights in the rocking chair by the window. Making her way over to Jaime, he spoke to the young babe.

“Show momma again how much I’m your favorite. Give a smile.” At the higher inflection in Jaime’s tone, the young babe smiled. Jaime turned to Brienne victoriously.

“See! He smiled at me first. He loves me.” Offering a warm smile and pat to Jaime’s back, Brienne nodded. When Jaime looked back to the babe proudly, Brienne winked at Ty before moving away to see to the other babes.

Now as Brienne looked down at Joanna, she smiled at her little nice.

_We need a plan to keep you all safe. And if the Night King tries to come near your cousin, Ty, I’ll end him myself with my fists._

Later that day, Jaime summoned the war council. Bran indicated that the dead were roughly a fortnight from Harrenhal. Their pace had slowed as the Night King ensured his entire army arrived at the same time. That fortnight would be their final chance to prepare to confront death.

As refugees poured in from all over the Seven Kingdoms, Jaime put those capable of physical labor to work. They housed as many as they could within the castle walls. Those unable to stay within would be taken by ship to the Iron Islands or Tarth.

Yara commanded the few remaining ships to the west. She would take refugees from the small port cities west of Fairmarket to the Iron Islands. Given the distance, only the earliest groups of refugees were sent northwest to wait out the war.

Theon commanded the handful of ships to the east. He would take refugees from Maidenpool to Tarth. The closer proximity to Harrenhal meant the later arriving groups could make the shorter journey northeast before the dead’s arrival.

Should the living fail, the Greyjoys would take the refugees to Essos. In light of Bran’s words, the triplets would not be among the group at the Iron Islands.

In the fortnight they had, Jaime had the living dig trenches around the perimeter of Harrenhal abutting the God’s Eye. Anything flammable would be placed into the ditches and set ablaze by the dragons before the living clashed with the dead.

The living also built trebuchets as quickly as they could. They placed them along the perimeter and just behind the trenches. 

They would set ablaze anything flammable to launch at the incoming wights in hopes that the dead would crumble to ash before reaching their ranks.

Jaime had men search the entire castle and surrounding villages for available weapons. The men found swords, daggers, bows and arrows, and torture devices. 

The living would wrap the weapons in cloth and set them ablaze when the time came. Archers would fill the rundown towers at Harrenhal to target the approaching wights. The few dragonglass arrows they had remaining, would be used for close range.

Daenerys and Brienne began taking passes over the Night King’s army before the final stand. They would target the groups of wights moving towards them from any direction save King’s Landing. They knew the Night King was last seen in the capital and now on foot. Knowing what he was capable of where it concerned the weather, they would keep their distance.

According to Bran, the army of the dead was too many too count, but past half a million. The living found themselves grossly outnumbered. The aim was to cut their numbers in half with the dragons before the final battle. 

Most of the refugees had not been off at war for good reason. Many were elderly, mothers, children, handicapped, and babes; hardly fit for fighting.

Brienne and Arya encouraged the able bodied women to fight. They trained them on weapons best suited to every individual’s skills and stature.

Many refugees arrived looking for their husbands and sons among the living’s forces. Most found only stories of fallen soldiers who stood bravely when death came. 

Food supplies were low, and Brienne feared that people would begin to starve and panic before the dead arrived. They began rationing food and sending groups to hunt or search abandoned farms.

Once the dead were upon them, the plan was simple. Fight to stay alive. Anyone with Valyrian steel would guard Bran in the godswood near the heart tree. Daenerys would ride on Drogon into battle and keep an eye on Viserion as Brienne fought below.

Among them, they had six remaining Valyrian steel weapons after losing the Valyrian steel dagger during Brienne’s single combat with the Night King. They also had one dragonsteel dagger.

The Valyrian steel would need to come together to weaken the creature. The dragonsteel blade would need to pierce its chest.

_Seven. We have seven weapons capable of weakening or killing the Night King; six Valyrian steel and one dragonsteel. There are eight remaining White Walkers to fight at his side. He has an army over 500,000 strong. Gods help us._


	22. Twin Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead arrive and the living are ready to battle to the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last battle will be three chapters worth.

“I don’t like this plan.” Jaime stormed down the hallway towards the doors that opened into the godswood. The sound of his steps echoed off the walls, and his flesh hand clenched at his side.

Moving beside him, Brienne ran a hand over her face as she let out a long sigh. “Well I don’t see what other option we have.”

“Widow’s fucking Tower, Brienne? You want to keep the triplets _there_? How fucking ominous. Shall I just call you ‘Bran’?”

Jaime knew it was unfair to take out his frustration on Brienne. He understood her reasoning as the tower _was_ the closest to the godswood. The proximity would ensure they could get to the children in time should the need arise.

The godswood at Harrenhal was massive, spanning 20 acres. It sat on the westernmost edge of the castle grounds and in the shadows of the five rundown towers.

When Brienne had told Jaime a fortnight ago that the triplets needed to stay, Jaime had lost it. He had half a mind to take his family on the back of Viserion to the end of the world. He would keep them safe from the Night King and any other threat that came their way.

Then Brienne reminded him of their duty to Westeros. Their duty to their family and friends. Their duty as knights.

_Annoying, stubborn, righteous wench._

Jaime wanted little to do with the plan to keep the triplets at Harrenhal, so he left it to Brienne to devise a way to keep them safe as he readied the rest of the castle for war. The living had spent a fortnight preparing for this moment. The dead had arrived.

Thanks to the tireless effort of Brienne and Daenerys, the Night King’s army now numbered closer to 200,000. The dragons had spent the past fortnight laying waste to any contingent of wights that moved towards Harrenhal.

The two women circled the skies to the west, south, and east throughout the day, destroying anything that wasn’t a group of refugees. They avoided the direction from which the Night King marched, knowing the creature could end it all with a spear or a fierce storm.

Despite that, the odds were still not on their side. Jaime also recalled that the Night King could raise more wights as he killed off their own soldiers in battle. Of course, 200,000 was more favorable than the half a million that Bran previously estimated.

Now the living stood outside the castle walls to the west, north, and east. The God’s Eye served as a natural barrier of protection to the south. They had four lines of defense before the Night King could reach Bran in the godswood.

The dragons were the first line of defense. Before the Night King summoned any arctic storms against the living, the dragons would continue to torch the wights below. When the time came, the dragons would light the second line of defense. The trebuchets.

Near a dozen trebuchets were stationed just behind the freshly dug trenches. They would continue the assault on the dead before the wights’ eyes could be seen by the living. The third line of defense was the trench running the perimeter of the castle.

Set half a mile before the castle itself, the trenches had been dug wide and deep. Any flammable objects that the living could find were tossed into the trenches to sustain the dragon’s fiery breath. Should the wights make it past the third layer of protection, they would meet the fourth and final. The living.

Each contingent of the living’s forces were led by a battle commander. Dothrkai, Wildlings, Unsullied, and each army of the seven kingdoms. An eleventh army had joined them and would comprise the final rows of soldiers before the castle gates. The refugees.

Davos would lead the group of refugees guarding the castle walls. Brienne, the Queensguard, and the commanders drilled the refugees for the past fortnight.

They taught them the basics and equipped them with any steel they could find in the castle and surrounding area. Unfortunately, the steel would only seek to delay the dead’s entry into the castle walls. They had no more dragonglass and only a handful of Valyrian steel weapons.

The thought of the refugees joining their fight tore at Jaime’s heart. It reminded him of Tommen. Bran had shared Tommen’s fate the day after Jaime’s return with the triplets. It was difficult to hear, but Jaime had to hear it. He felt a flood of emotions consume him when the tale was complete.

Pride. Love. Grief. Jaime had to leave the castle after Bran delivered the news. He felt as though his heart had been pulled from his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Sitting on the ground in the courtyard with his head in his flesh hand, a tiny set of feet came into view.

Before Jaime could look up, Catelyn was in his arms. “Don’t cry, Papa.” Jaime engulfed the young tot in his arms. “Why aren’t you with your brothers?”

“I bring you this.” Catelyn extended her little hand before Jaime’s face. Looking into her palm, Jaime saw the lion pendant in her hand. The pendant that used to be his as a child, and that he had given to Catelyn. His youngest babe. His little fighter.

“Fight like lion, Papa.”

Now as Jaime walked down the hallway towards the godswood with Brienne at his side, he looked down to his left wrist. The chain was too small for his neck, so Jaime instead wrapped it around his wrist for battle. The pendant reminded him of his children. All of them. It reminded him of the brave knight he wanted to be as a young boy.

_I’ll fight for all of them. Gods, please don’t let me encounter Tommen or Myrcella on the field._

From inside Harrenhal’s gates, six of them would stand together with the seven weapons intended to fell the Night King. Brienne had Oathkeeper. Jaime had Widow’s Wail. Jon had Longclaw. Barristan had Heartsbane. Selwyn had Lady Forlorn. Tywin had Vigilance.

Bran held the dragonsteel dagger that little Sel found, albeit with some guidance from the three-eyed raven himself. Jaime thought it necessary for Bran to have a weapon should the Night King approach. What better weapon than the very one needed to kill the creature. After all, it was Bran he wanted to kill.

_And little Ty. He comes for my son now._

Stepping out from the castle into the godswood, Jaime noted the eerie quiet. The only light to be seen was cast from the flickering torchlights and firepits kept burning by the living. He looked back towards the castle and noted Widow’s Tower looming above.

Inside the tower, Sansa, Tyrion, Genna, non-fighters, and the children were held. Ser Boros, Pod, and a group of soldiers stood guard over the children, protecting the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. The Queensguard knight had been given an additional assignment; ensuring little Ty stayed put.

In the godswood, the seven holders of Valyrian steel would be surrounded by a group of seven knights led by Ser Endrew. In absence of a full Queensguard, Ser Barristan tasked the knights with protecting their queen to their last breath.

Jaime and Brienne mounted the awaiting horses to take them into the large godswood. As the queen and Jaime made their way towards the center of the godswood, Jaime looked to the sky. The cries of the dragons above alerted him that their first line of defense was moving to engage the dead.

Daenerys’ white hair was tied back tightly in a braid. At Brienne’s insistence, Addam was on the dragon with her. Brienne’s fear was the dragon needing to touch down where it was unsafe to avoid the storm or to recover from a wound.

Refusing to see her cousin left alone among a sea of wights, Brienne requested Addam guard her back. The knight eagerly agreed to protect his wife in battle as he did in life.

Looking to the sky above, Jaime sent a silent prayer to the seven to keep his friend and Daenerys safe. Jaime nearly lost Brienne during the first battle with the Night King. He assumed she would have been safe on the back of Viserion, but the Night King proved him wrong. Now they knew what the creature could do, and the effect it had on the dragons.

The ride to the center of the godswood was quick on horseback. As they approached, Jaime saw the rest of the group already there. Bran sat on the ground, leaning against the most terrifying weirdwood that Jaime had ever seen.

Shouts from the east caught Jaime’s attention as he and Brienne dismounted and joined the group. Everyone looked in the direction of the castle and squinted into the darkness.

_What’s this now?_

Bran’s voice was low at Jaime’s back. “She’s here now.”

Turning to look at the young man, Jaime’s brows furrowed. “She? Did the Night King take a bride since we saw him last?”

A small smile tugged at Bran’s lips. “She. The light.”

An approaching horse captured Jaime’s attention and he looked back to the east. From the darkness, a figure emerged on horseback. Wordlessly, a woman approached and stared at their group. Ser Endrew put up a hand and stood before them.

“Woah. Who are you?”

The woman silently dismounted and met Endrew’s eyes. “I have business with these seven behind you. The Lord of Light sent me.”

_The who? What is this woman on about?_

Endrew glanced back uneasily at Brienne and awaited her command. With a slight shrug, Brienne bid the woman come forward. As Endrew and the guards stood aside, the woman’s eyes landed on Jon. A small smile tugged at her lips and she nodded.

Jon’s voice reached Jaime’s ears and gave context to what was happening. “That’s Melisandre. She is the one who brought me back. Some time ago, she told me that she must be here for this.”

Jaime’s eyes appraised the woman suspiciously. Melisandre had long, red hair and a dangerous look in her eyes. The woman unnerved Jaime as he stood protectively at Brienne’s right side.

As she approached, Melisandre’s eyes darted to Bran and she nodded. “Did they do as I commanded?”

“Yes, their swords are raised.” Bran’s voice filled the godswood, bouncing off the neighboring trees and filling the night sky.

_Whose swords are raised? This was hardly in my carefully outlined plans._

Before Jaime could question the woman, her eyes fell on him and then Brienne. Her voice was loud enough only for their small group to hear. “Stronger together.”

Raising her voice louder, she commanded Jaime and Brienne. “Cross your swords. The rest of you, raise your steel.”

Jaime looked to Brienne in confusion. They stood shoulder to shoulder; Widow’s Wail drawn and hanging at his side, mirroring Brienne’s posture. Doing as she said, Jaime and Brienne raised their swords and crossed them.

Bran called to Endrew and his men. “Raise your steel. All of you.”

Melisandre stared at Jaime and Brienne as though trying to read something below the surface. “Ice becomes twin flames tonight.” Placing her hands on the crossed blades where they came together, the woman began chanting in a language that Jaime could hardly understand.

Blood dripped slightly from her palm where she touched their blades. Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne who looked equally baffled. Assessing the others among them, Jaime saw confusion writ across their faces as well. They held their swords in the air as commanded.

The woman’s chanting grew louder, and Jaime felt the hilt of his sword warm slightly. Abruptly, the swords burst into flames before them. As suddenly as their swords were aflame, every other sword drawn caught fire before Jaime’s eyes.

The woman stepped back slightly and nodded. Turning to Barristan, Melisandre narrowed her eyes slightly.

“You’ll protect your queen as Ser Duncan protected his king. To the last breath.”

Then the woman was gone. She moved back to her horse and with a final nod to Bran, Melisandre rode into the shadows.

Jaime felt dread pool in his stomach as he looked to Ser Barristan. The aged knight stood to Brienne’s left with Heartsbane aflame.

_Gods. Don’t let Barristan draw his last breath tonight._

He expected to see confusion or fear line the man’s face, but he only saw resolve. A slight swell of pride even.

“Don’t you dare take your last breath tonight. Remember our wager. I want a good showing.” Jaime aimed for jest, but he could hear the worry in his tone.

Barristan smiled at Jaime. “I always thought you could beat me with your right. I hope tonight you prove better than me with your left. Now… I would appreciate if you could kill another mad king this night.”

Jaime’s jaw went slack at the words. Before he could muster a reply, a bitter wind ripped through the godswood and made the flames coating their swords dance wildly. Snow began to fall, and the distant cry of dragons filled the night sky.

At Jaime’s back, Bran’s monotone voice cut through the wind. “I need to go now.”

The sound of ravens scattering from the weirwood drew Jaime’s eyes to the sky. Far above them, he saw the retreating forms of Viserion and Drogon. Both dragons were without riders.


	23. Marked for Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle begins and Bran follows the fighting.

Bran’s eyes flew open in the raven’s body that carried him east towards the battle. The dragons had just passed overheard and flown west towards warmth. A bitter storm was blowing in from the east, and Bran knew it to be the Night King’s doing.

Before fleeing, the dragons had managed to light the trenches after cutting through large sections of the Night King’s army. Smoke and flames covered the field below as Bran searched for his targets.

It was not the storm that initially sent the dragons east, but rather the Night King. The creature had hurled a spear through one of Drogon’s wings, downing the dragon. The largest of the remaining dragons had skidded to the ground in agony just before the freshly lit trenches.

Both Daenerys and Addam had fallen from the dragon and were at a distance from the great beast. In the fall, it seemed the saddle had snapped and sent the riders to the ground as Drogon careened forward. That is where Bran saw them alone the field with wights closing in.

Daenerys and Addam ran towards the trenches. Unsheathing his sword, Addam guarded Daenerys’ retreat, felling approaching wights. He cleared their path towards the trenches and soon, they neared their destination. It became apparent that the only path back to the living was through the flames.

While Bran knew that Daenerys to be impervious to the flames, Addam was not. Flying lower, Bran heard Addam screaming at Dany. “Go! Get to safety!”

Daenerys screamed and tugged at Addam. She implored him to make haste with her towards the God’s Eye. It was the only barrier untouched by flames. Addam only shook his head in refute. There were too many wights, and he couldn’t safely carve a path through them.

“There’s no time. I love you. Now go!”

Addam pushed Daenerys towards the trenches after kissing her firmly on the lips. At the other side, the living screamed for the Targaryen to come across. Sobbing as she jumped into the trenches, Daenerys scrambled up the trench wall, using the flammable debris to climb to the other side.

As Daenerys reached for the top of the trenches, a pair of familiar hands grabbed at her wrists. Ser Jorah pulled her to safety despite burning his own hands in the process.

Jorah cried out in pain as Daenerys doused the flames licking at his jerkin. The knight had been placed in charge of the Northern forces given Jon’s required presence in the godswood. With the fire on Jorah’s arms extinguished, she slumped into his arms sobbing.

Daenerys’ cries masked Addam’s pained screams from the other side of the trench as he was overrun by wights. “Addam! Please!”

Bran’s eyes darted back to Addam. The redheaded knight had disappeared under a sea of wights. He died getting his love to safety. Bran knew that Daenerys would not have made it otherwise.

Flaming projectiles were sent hurtling towards the army of the dead, nearly taking out Bran’s host. Moving higher from the line of attack, Bran watched as the projectiles met the dead. Unlike dragonfire, this fire was snuffed out quickly after hitting its intended target.

The climate was too cold and the flames not sustainable after the projectiles met its targets. Bran knew that this line of defense would only serve to slow, but not fell the enemy. Looking to the north and west of Harrenhal’s grounds, Bran could see that the dead had arrived along the perimeter of the trenches.

Turning back towards the east, Bran’s eyes landed on the Night King and his White Walkers. They stood calmly and watched their forces fall into the burning trenches; never to reach the other side. 

Bran eyed the creature suspiciously. Suddenly, they began moving southeast towards the God’s Eye. As the Night King approached the area, the army of the dead stopped their relentless march into the trenches. Their attention shifted towards the God’s Eye and they slowly moved to follow their leader.

_Gods. What is he going to do now?_

The raven’s small heart beat rapidly. Nearing the water’s edge, the Night King dropped to a knee. He rested his hand on the water’s surface, and Bran watched in wonder as the massive lake immediately began to freeze.

Bran had though the process of freezing such a large body of water should take significantly longer, but it happened in an instant. The Night King stood upright and looked to the sky. As his eyes found Bran, a vicious smile tugged at his lips. Scores of wights began moving onto the frozen lake and around towards the castle walls.

The southernmost flanks met the wights against the castle walls. Fortunately for those inside the castle, the walls were high enough and would prevent the dead from climbing over. The Night King’s army would need to push their way through the living soldiers to access the gates.

The commanders shouted back to the other contingents, alerting them to the dead’s new position of attack. Soldiers yelled for the refugees to fall back and move towards the gates and courtyard. Having them out of the way would enable more skilled fighters to stop the dead’s progress towards.

Flaming swords cut through wights along the eastern and western walls of the castle. Archers positioned in the rundown towers and atop the decrepit battlements turned their attention to the south. They began firing dragonglass or flaming arrows towards their targets.

Abruptly, a dragon’s cries filled the night sky. Bran turned to see Viserion speeding back towards the army of the dead from the west. The dragon began to cut through throngs of wights with its fiery breath. Bran could see the internal struggle etched on the beast’s face. It wanted no part of being there.

_How? How is it back despite the cold urging it away after the attack on Drogon?_

A horrifying thought hit Bran. Looking back to the Night King, the same realization seemed to reach the creature’s eyes and he looked angrily to the towers of Harrenhal.

Following his gaze, it was obvious which tower the living were crammed into. Torchlight poured out from the windows, alerting the Night King to the living’s presence. 

_Little Ty. The Night King now knows where he is and will go for the boy first. Ty needs to hide himself._

Moving rapidly towards the tower in question, Bran contemplated how to get the young boy’s attention. Bran knew from his own warging efforts that it was impossible to rouse him from the trance. He encouraged his host’s body around the Widow’s Tower and through one of the many open windows.

He followed the sound of voices from those seeking refuge inside. After some time searching and cawing, Bran came upon Tyrion who was exiting one of the rooms. Praying to the Seven that Tyrion understood his intent, Bran urged the bird at Tyrion’s head; cawing and flapping into Tyrion’s golden locks.

“Gods! Fucking bird. Get out of here.” Tyrion batted at the bird, but Bran kept pestering him. Holding his host’s body at eye level, Tyrion’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Bran?”

Cawing loudly in reply, Bran again flapped at Tyrion’s head.

“Alright fucking stop, now! If I ask a question and I’m correct, then caw. No need to assault my head!”

With furrowed brows, Tyrion took a deep breath. “You’re looking for someone in this tower?”

Coming to rest upon the top of the doorframe that Tyrion had emerged from, Bran cawed loudly. At his response, Tyrion stroked his chin.

“And adult?”

When no response came, Tyrion closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“A child, then.”

Bran cawed loudly again, and Tyrion sighed. By the look in his eyes, it was evident that Tyrion knew what child it was that Bran sought audience with.

“Little Ty?”

More cawing echoed through the corridor from Bran’s host. With a slight groan, Tyrion moved down the hallway. “You better not be asking me to take the boy anywhere. Jaime and Brienne will have my head, and I’m short enough as it is.”

They turned at another long corridor until they came to a door. Ser Boros stood guard outside and nodded at Tyrion’s approach.

“Ser Boros. My _associate_ and I need to speak with the triplets.” Tyrion moved past the guard and into the room. As the door shut, Bran noted little Ty sitting near the window. Cat and Sel were on their knees, staring intently at their brother.

Genna was pacing the room worriedly, glancing between Ty and the window. From the room, Bran could see the dead pushing their way towards the gates from the God’s Eye. Tyrion seemed to note the same and his eyes went wide at the sight.

“Gods. It’s frozen over!”

Then Tyrion saw it. Ty’s eyes were rolled back in his head, exposing only the whites. Genna ran to Tyrion and grabbed his arm. “Thank the Gods! He won’t look to me. I’ve been trying to snap him out of it.”

Tyrion sank to his knees and shook little Ty by the shoulders. “Tywin! Wake up! Can you hear me!?”

_That won’t work! We need to get the triplets out of this tower. The Night King knows the living are in here and that Ty is likely with them._

Bran thought quickly. The Widow’s Tower was connected to the Kingspyre Tower via a long bridge. It would be possible to pass to that tower easily enough, but they needed to find a safe area to hide the children.

Standing abruptly, Tyrion looked to Bran as the bird perched its body on the ledge. “Bran, are we safe here? Caw if we are.”

Bran remained silent as Genna looked to Tyrion with annoyance writ across her face. “By the Gods, Tyrion. Have you lost your mind!? You’re talking to a bird!”

Waving Genna off, Tyrion asked another question. “Is little Ty in an animal just as you are?”

Cawing loudly, Bran watched as Tyrion sucked in a sharp breath and looked to little Ty. Worry lined his face as Tyrion appraised his nephew.

Little Cat stood and grabbed at Tyrion’s hand. “Uncle Tyrion. Ty bring back dragon. He there.” The little girl pointed to the outline of Viserion in the distance. The dragon continued to decimate the Night’s King’s westernmost group of wights, but the dragon’s struggle was evident.

“Seven Hells! Bran, do you know how we get him out of that thing!?” Tyrion looked to Bran with desperation in his eyes. As no sound came from the raven, Bran watched Tyrion’s mind begin to work.

“Aunt Genna, I need you to get Sansa and Joanna. We need to move from this tower quickly. Alert Pod and Ser Boros.” Without questioning Tyrion’s instructions, Genna moved from the room.

Looking back to Bran, Tyrion eyed the bird apprehensively. “Is there anything you can try to do that might snap him out of this?”

Bran looked back to the outline of Viserion in the distance. Taking the risk, Bran urged his host’s body towards the dragon. Flying as fast as he could, Bran could see the increasing agitation in the dragon’s eyes.

The dragon’s body was not meant to be held in such cold climate. Bran was shocked at how strong Ty’s capabilities were that he had held the beast for so long. Even still, it was not likely that Ty could hold the animal there for much longer without killing it.

As he neared his target, Bran tried to get close enough from above the dragon’s snout without getting caught in the flames. Cawing as loudly as he could and flapping around Viserion’s head, he saw the dragon’s eyes dart towards him. He prayed to the Seven that it would be enough to encourage Ty to leave the dragon.

If the dragon died, the Night King would take it and be indestructible. Abruptly, Viserion veered west and away from the dead. Taking that as a sign of Viserion’s release, Bran felt his host’s heart return to a normal rhythm. Flying back towards the room, Bran perched on the ledge and noticed the panic inside.

Ty had fallen unconscious to the floor. It was clear to Bran why this happened. When he had tried to hold an animal in place for too long where it did not wish to be, it became taxing on his own mind and body.

Bran had fainted once after such an effort, and it appeared that a boy as young as two was even more likely to succumb to the same result.

_This could work to my advantage. I can reach him in sleep._

Concentrating as hard as he could, Bran opened his eyes to find himself standing in the tower with Ty. They were alone in the room as Ty looked out onto the battle below.

The room was darker and colder than moments earlier while in a conscious state. Moving towards little Ty, Bran reached his hand out. “Ty. You don’t understand. If you held the dragon there, it could have died. I know you were only trying to help.”

The young boy turned to face him. Little Ty’s face betrayed his fear. Crouching to eye level, Bran met Ty’s eyes and tried to remain both calm and supportive.

“I know this is all very frightening for you, but I need you to wake up and tell everyone to move to the Kingspyre Tower. The Night King knows that the living are hiding here. He could see the torchlight.”

Little Ty shook his head and tears filled his eyes. “It my fault he know.”

Shaking his head, Bran tried to reassure the little boy. “No, it’s the torchlight. This is the only tower the living are in, and he can see the torchlight from the distance. I saw them too. You can’t take any light into the next tower.”

Again, Ty shook his head. “No. He know I here. It my fault.” The boy pulled down the tunic at his right shoulder to reveal a hand print akin to the one on Bran’s forearm.

_Fuck. He marked him._


	24. Living Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion acts quickly to come up with a plan to keep the children safe.

Tyrion looked down at little Ty. The boy had fallen unconscious after his eyes rolled forward and the dragon left the sky. At first, Tyrion felt relief that Bran’s efforts were successful. It wasn’t until little Ty fainted that Tyrion began to panic.

The door to the room swung open abruptly to reveal Sansa, Joanna, Genna, Pod, and Ser Boros. “Thank the Gods. He fainted. He’s back with us now, but he’s unconscious.”

The raven returned to the window and cawed aggressively, capturing Tyrion’s attention.

_I don’t know what’s worse. Cryptic Bran or Raven Bran. I can’t understand either._

Bran used his host’s body to move into the room. The bird landed on little Ty’s chest and tugged at the boy’s tunic. With a confused look, Tyrion’s eyes darted to the group that just entered. Tyrion hesitantly pulled back the tunic and gasped at what he saw.

“He has the same mark that Bran does. The Night King knows he is here.” Tyrion’s worried eyes stared at the mark as his thumb ran over the lines.

He glanced at Cat and Sel, fretting over what to do. It was obvious that they couldn’t stay in the tower. They needed more protection than what a handful of guards could offer. They needed the best in Westeros.

“We need to move into the godswood.”

At Tyrion’s words, the raven cawed aggressively. Having Bran’s backing made Tyrion feel better about the decision. Unfortunately, Ser Boros did not agree with the approach. The Queensguard stepped into the room and glared at Tyrion.

“I can’t let you do that. I was given explicit instruction by the queen to keep the children here.”

With a sigh, Tyrion met the man’s eyes. “In absence of our queen and prince consort, decisions for the triplets wellbeing falls to me and my wife, Lady Sansa. This child is marked just as Bran is. The Night King will come to this fucking tower and we are ill-prepared to defend the heir and her siblings.”

Worry lined the knight’s face as he considered the words. Shaking his head, he pointed a finger at Tyrion. “It’ll be your head if this fails! I’m sworn to the queen. Not you.”

A hint of amusement touched Tyrion’s features. _Every knight with half a brain should fear our queen’s wrath._

Tyrion sighed and looked to Bran. “Do you have a plan for this, Bran?”

At the raven’s silence, Tyrion sorted. “You’re awfully good at posing challenges. Shit at solving them. Gods, I need to think.”

Tyrion stood and paced the room. He stared down at the worried faces of his niece and nephew. Then the idea came.

Tyrion’s eyes went wide and he turned to the small group before him. “I know what to do. We need to go to the godswood quickly! We must beat the Night king to the weirdwood tree.”

Rushing to the window, Tyrion could see the stalemate at the exterior walls. The wights were viciously clawing forward, but the living where fighting back with their flaming swords held high. Then something caught Tyrion’s eye to the east. His heart faltered as he took in the sight.

“Gods. No.”

As the wights clamored on top of one another and piled against the eastern wall, the dilapidated structure began to crumble and give way. The men atop the battlements ran to avoid being caught in the wall’s collapse. Screams erupted as ancient stonework fell to the ground, crushing living and dead soldiers on the exterior wall.

After a momentary silence, Tyrion saw the wights begin climbing over the rubble and into the castle courtyard.

“We need to go, now! They’re inside.”

At Tyrion’s words, Ser Boros, Pod, and Genna surged forward to pick up a triplet each. Everyone had been provided dragonglass weapons in the event the dead breached the walls and made it into the tower.

Their orders had been clear. Stay hidden. Protect the children. Tyrion would need to break that order now to ensure that Ty was not targeted. The boy was in Ser Boros’s capable arms as the Queensguard led the way down the long flight of stairs.

They would need to get to the stables and procure horses to ensure they had ample time to get to the godswood and enact for Tyrion’s plan.

“Ser Boros. We need horses to get to Bran in time. Can you get us there?”

The knight glanced at Tyrion as they ran. “To my last breath, I will do all I can to get you there. Stay close.”

Tyrion’s eyes darted back to the group behind him. Genna held onto Catelyn as Pod cradled little Sel. Sansa gave Tyrion a look that suggested she had endured more than enough of this madness; running through darkened hallways, fleeing dead things, and cradling their newborn babe to her chest.

_I swear to you my love, when this is over, we I will ensure we never have to run again._

The stairs seemed to go on forever. The towers at Harrenhal had been destroyed near halfway up, but the livable floors were still high enough that most men would tire upon reaching their assigned quarters.

Tyrion wondered if the wights would attack the tower once Ty was removed. He prayed to the Seven that the refugees hid well and fought off death. When at last they reached the main level, Ser Boros led them down the hallway that would bring them out to the edge of the godswood. The stables against the northern wall should hold enough horses to bring them to the weirdwood at the center of the godswood.

The bitter cold was like a knife to the lungs. It felt as Tyrion imagined falling from the rowboat and into the Sunset Sea would have when he, Sansa, Joanna, and Pod, fled death at the Rock. Smoke filled the air around them. The northern winds carried the smoldering contents of the trenches and wights over the exterior wall’s edge and into the castle grounds.

The effect was like a heavy fog descending upon the godswood. In the distance to the east, Tyrion heard the screams of the refugees as the wights charged through the castle walls. Their group needed to move quickly to the stables, or they would soon be overrun by death.

Staying close to Ser Boros, Tyrion unsheathed his blade and prepared to defend their group from any incoming threat. The sound of gnashing teeth and desperate nails clawing at stone sounded from over the northern wall before them as they neared the stables.

Tyrion prayed to the Seven that those thicker walls would hold better than the rundown castle walls at the east. A light snow fell to the ground around them as they approached the stalls. It wasn’t until Tyrion looked closer that he realized it was not snow, but ash.

The burning contents of the trenches and bodies of the wights lifted into the air and down upon the castle grounds. A smell of burning decay and debris reached Tyrion’s nose, making him gag slightly.

Tyrion looked inside the stables and saw three horses wild with fear. Broken stable doors and snapped harnesses indicated that most of the horses had broken free in fear. Tyrion knew horses to spook easily, and he imagined the animals had fled at the dead’s arrival.

_Gods. Where did they think they could run to avoid the Stranger’s chokehold?_

Ser Boros handed little Ty to Tyrion so that he could attempt to calm the horses.

“Woah, woah. Easy girl. Easy.” Putting a hand out, Boros grabbed one of the horse’s harness and patted it’s snout reassuringly. Tyrion worried the wights would be upon them given how long this effort was taking.

Ser Boros guided the horse out and helped Sansa onto the saddle. “Lord Hand, you’ll need to ride with your wife and child.”

Tyrion nodded mutely and set little Ty down near Pod’s feet. As Ser Boros helped Tyrion atop the horse, Tyrion reached down. “Let me take little Ty. I’ll hold him close.”

The boy was small enough that the four of them should be able to ride easily enough. Tyrion would not drop that boy for anything in this world. Moving quickly, Ser Boros handed an unconscious Ty to Tyrion.

The Queensguard moved back into the stables and calmed the second horse. He brought the horse before Genna and took Catelyn from her arms. Watching his aunt mount the horse and reach back for Catelyn, Tyrion sent a silent prayer to the Seven to hold off the dead a moment longer.

After retrieving the final horse, Boros took little Sel so that Pod could mount as well. The sound of approaching wights caught their attention and Tyrion felt panic swell. Ser Boros’ eyes went wide at the sight of the dead. Turning back to their group, he yelled to Tyrion.

“I’ll hold them off. Get the children to safety. Tell the queen that I’m sorry.”

Before Tyrion could protest, Boros smacked Pod’s horse to send the beast running towards the center of the godswood. At the dead’s approach, the other horses spooked and took off after Pod’s.

“No! Ser Boros!” Tyrion called back to the man. His eyes went wide in fear for Ser Boros as the man’s figure became little more than an outline in the heavy smoke settling over the area. He saw the knight raise his dragonglass blade into position as he began felling wights with everything he had in him.

The battle cries of the Queensguard sent a chill down Tyrion’s spine. The difference between life and death was the sacrifice of the human spirit. Their army fought for love. For family. For duty and honor.

Tyrion imagined that Ser Boros was the first of many to sacrifice himself in this battle for someone else. Turning his head forward as he could no longer stomach the outline of Ser Boros’ last stand against death, Tyrion clutched little Ty tightly and leaned his head against Sansa’s back.

_Gods. Keep my loved ones safe. Let life win._

The ride towards the center of the godswood was mercifully short on horseback. At their approach, wide eyes greeted them as they emerged through the blanket of smoke. Ser Endrew lead the group of seven knights, acting as the first barrier to Bran. Their flaming swords lit the way to their finest warriors.

When Ser Endrew took in the sight of them, his eyes darted back in worry to Brienne and Jaime. Tyrion watched his brother and goodsister step forward; their mouths slack in horror.

It was Brienne who broke the silence. “Why?”

Endrew helped the new arrivals dismount from their horses and Tyrion brought little Ty near Bran. As their finest gathered around, he pulled back the boy’s tunic and looked to Brienne and Jaime apologetically.

“The Night King marked him. He knows where he is as he knows where Bran is. Nowhere is safe.”

The frightened parents flinched at the sight of the Night King’s marking. At that moment, Bran’s eyes rolled forward. “Tyrion has a plan.”

All eyes darted from Bran to Tyrion. With a heavy sigh, Tyrion stood up and looked to Bran. “This marker tells the Night King where you are, but not the _precise_ location, correct? It isn’t so clear as wearing a pendant or sign?”

Bran’s head cocked slightly in consideration. “He can find my location, but it isn’t as though I have a beacon over my head, I suppose. It tells him my general area, but it is my face he recognizes.

With a deep breath, Tyrion nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

As Tyrion recalled from an earlier walkthrough of the godswood, the landscape surrounding the heart tree was heavy with concealed spaces that were perfect for hiding. Massive weirdwood stumps that once loomed tall beside the only remaining heart tree were now nothing but enormous stumps serving as a small boulder would. They were overgrown by heavy thickets that could conceal a couple of people easily enough.

“We will hide little Ty and Cat here just behind Bran in these dense thickets between weirwood stumps. The Night King will come for little Ty, but it is little Sel who he will see.” Turning to the young boy, Tyrion smiled apologetically.

“I’ve never known a better climber than our little Sel. When the Night King arrives, Sel will serve as a diversion. He will climb the weirwood before the Night King can reach him. That is when our blades will strike.”

“No!” Jaime barked at Tyrion and took a step forward. “I will not use one child as a decoy for the other. They are of equal importance to me!”

Brienne’s hand moved gently Jaime’s arm. A silent conversation passed between them and Jaime could do little more than shake his head.

Taking a deep breath, Brienne met Jaime’s eyes. “It’s the only way. Llittle Ty is unconscious and _not_ a climber. Little Sel could reach the top branches before the Night King blinks. Jaime, we will not let that thing near our child. I will die before that comes to pass.” 

“And I.” Selwyn took a step forward and nodded in understanding of the plan. Tywin, Barristan, and Jon, stepped forward, all looking equally resolute as they nodded in affirmation of their oath.

Swallowing thickly, Jaime turned to Tyrion. “Someone needs to guard Cat and Ty in those fucking thickets. We also need somewhere to conceal, Sansa and Joanna.”

Tyrion nodded in understanding. “Yes. We also need to get Bran into the tree. I hardly know what you expect him to do from the ground, but he will be overrun. He will be safer up there with little Sel.”

The group quickly combed the area and found a large gap in the ground that was concealed by heavy brush and trees. It appeared the tree originally occupying the entire space was half decayed and a natural cavern had developed form the rot.

Tyrion knew it was the best chance that Sansa and his babe had to survive this final fight. “I’ll guard Sansa and Joanna. Genna can hide with Cat and Ty.”

Genna nodded and stepped forward with a determined look on her face. “Nothing will get to those children on my watch, Jaime. You have my word.”

Tyrion watched as his brother swallowed thickly and nodded in approval of the plan. The approaching sound of wights gave the group heightened urgency. Tyrion moved Sansa and Joanna towards the large hole in the ground just to the southwest of the weirwood.

To ensure the babe did not make a sound, Sansa put Joanna to her breast. It was the fastest way for Joanna to nod off and remain content. Pulling the blanket tighter around their babe, Tyrion placed a kiss to Sansa’s lips.

Leaning his forehead to hers, he whispered for her ears only. “Nothing will come near you while I live.”

Keeping his dragonglass blade unsheathed, Tyrion peered up through the dense brush. The heavy smoke covering would further concealment of both groups.

Tyrion was pleased with the hiding place afforded to Ty, Cat, and Genna. The massive overgrowth was just to the side of the weirwood and easily concealed them from the dead, but still close enough should aid be needed.

Little Sel stood at the trunk of the frightening looking weirwood. It was the first time that Tyrion didn’t see the young tot smile. Tyrion would have expected to see fear on a boy so young given what he had already witnessed. Instead, Tyrion only saw a youthful defiance etched on little Sel’s face.

Selwyn was leaning down and speaking to his grandson. The young tot did little more than nod at the words. Then Selwyn produced something from his hip. A dragonglass dagger.

_Oh, for fucks sake!_

Jon hoisted Bran onto his back and climbed the massive weirwood while Barristan held Jon’s flaming sword. Once Bran was secured above the ground, Jon climbed back down and took his blade.

Westeros’ finest stood protectively before little Sel as Bran looked down from the tree. Tyrion took a deep breath as he observed the outline of approaching wights cutting through the fog. Blue eyes pushed past heavy smoke covering from all sides.

_Gods. Please let this work._


	25. You'll Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the final battle against the dead.

Bran stared down at the living forces circling the ancient weirwood. They cut through wights easily, protecting little Sel from all angles. The boy stood rigid at the trunk of the tree. His eyes trained ahead and a dagger in hand.

At the rear of the tree, Tywin, Barristan, and Selwyn fought effectively. Selwyn kept near his friend, Tywin. The older lords were not as well conditioned, but with Barristan at their side, no wight came close to harming either lord.

Still, they moved well and held their ground. It was obvious to Bran that Selwyn was the more practiced of the two. Unfortunately, Selwyn’s preferred fighting style involved using his hands to break people, but wights did not break so easily. He would need to rely on the blade to accomplish the objective.Tywin was effective enough but struggled at times with his counterstrikes.

At the front of the tree, Jon, Jaime, and Brienne fought deftly. Jaime and Brienne may as well have been one body. They worked together in ways that Bran knew they would. Their swords a mere extension of the other. Wordlessly, they aided each other when needed and moved out of the way when appropriate. 

Hundreds of wights had poured into the Godswood from all angles. Nearly half the wights pushed past the first line of defense which was led by Endrew and the seven knights with the new addition of Pod. Endrew was the best of them and came to the aid of several among his group, including Pod. He barked commands and ensured everyone was aware of incoming threats.

Bran felt his lungs fill heavy with smoke that was settling over the godswood. The northern winds had intensified, pushing the smoke over the wall from the trenches. Ash fell lightly as though a gnetle snowfall. That it was ash, only made it more appropriate for the horrifying scene below.

The fighting raged for an hour and the living began to fatigue. In that time, Endrew had lost two men, but the rest stood strong. Glancing behind him, Bran could see the grandfathers tiring from the effort. Barristan yelled to them to stay strong and remember what they fought for.

“Kill them to the last! They’re coming for your children. For your grandchildren.”

The words gave Selwyn and Tywin the second surge they needed to fight through the pain and fatigue. All the knights struggled to draw breath in the smoky covering, but more so than the impact to their lungs, was the impact of the smoke on their vision.

Bran longed to enter a raven’s body so that his vision and lungs would be clearer. He couldn’t though. His place was in the tree now. He needed to be in his body for what was to come. Bran’s eyes were bloodshot from the smoke’s assault on his vision. It was as though they were caught in a snowsquall and Bran would barely see to Endrew’s line.

Then, the dead stopped coming. An obscene amount of fallen wights lay lifeless at the feet of the living. Bran feared that the dead would rise again. This was the calm that usually preceded their renewed breath. It did not come to pass.

As the living stood panting and looking around frantically for more wights that would never arrive, a cool breeze pushed through the godswood. The red leaves and uppermost branches of the weirwood blew aggressively and Bran had to put up his forearm to shield himself form the wind’s assault.

Then Bran saw them, the outline of an inordinate amount of wights. Blue eyes glistening through the smoke. Their eyes then shifted to an approaching figure. The nine looming forms of eight remaining White Walkers and the Night King.

_This is it._

Bran knew Endrew’s line as good as dead. They only held dragonglass swords or flaming steel. The dragonglass would crumble under the White Walker’s blades. The flaming steel could not kill the creatures.

Recognizing this as Bran had, Brienne shouted to the men. “Fall back!” The men moved quickly at her command, but Endrew refused. As the rest of the Queensguard had, he would stand before his queen. Raising his dragonglass sword high, he stood defiantly before the White Walkers as they slowly approached.

“Ser Endrew! Move back!” Brienne again called to the last remaining Queensguard save Ser Barristan.

Taking aim at the first approaching White Walker, Endrew screamed out in defiance. “Tarth defends its Evenstar and queen!”

At his words, Brienne surged forward, her blade joining Endrew’s to block the White Walker’s first blow. The Valyrian steel wedged between the dragonglass and ice sword; keeping Endrew’s blade from shattering. A curious look flitted across the White Walker’s face as he felt the strength of the woman before him.

Jon and Jaime surged forward to meet more approaching White Walkers. Recognizing the perilous position of those at the front of the tree, Barristan commanded Endrew’s line of knights standing before little Sel. “To the rear of the tree! There are only wights here!”

Turning slightly, Bran observed the wights again moving towards the tree from the south. Selwyn, Tywin, and Barristan moved quickly to the front of the tree to fight the group of White Walkers.

The Night King held back, watching his generals engage the living. Then his eyes landed on little Sel. His eyes scanned upwards to Bran. The vicious smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Sel! Up the tree! Now!” In response to Bran’s words, the young boy began to climb upwards to the first rung of gnarled branches. Little Sel moved quickly and was soon at Bran’s side, well out of the Night King’s reach.

Bran put a protective arm around the boy, securing him in place. “Stay still now, little Sel. You’ve done well. You’re very brave.”

The young tot’s eyes remained fixed on the fighting below. His dragonglass dagger at his hip caught the light from the flames around them. Glancing backwards, Bran saw the wights engaging the living soldiers. Little Sel followed Bran’s eyeline and pointed with a smile. “Pod!”

The momentary distraction nearly cost Pod as his eyes moved upwards towards Sel. A wight tackled Pod to the ground, but the young man shoved his dragonglass blade into the creature. Once he stood upright, he moved back to his comrades as they fought the incoming wights.

Bran glanced back towards the front of the tree. The White Walkers were strong and fast, but not as impressive as the Night King. Their movements were fluid and strategic. They fought well against the living well, but the best of Westeros stood before them.

Barristan destroyed one of the creatures by cutting across its chest. Scores of wights around the tree fell at the White Walker’s demise.

Seven White Walkers remained against seven living, but Endrew was at a disadvantage in terms of weaponry. The Tarth knight caught a blade off the side of his left arm. He fell backwards and the creature surged forward to finish him, but Selwyn blocked the blow with a mighty growl.

Spinning faster than Bran had ever seen the man move, Selwyn sliced clear through the White Walker’s neck, sending the creature into icy shards. More wights fell all around the tree. 

With a subtle gesture, the Night King commanded more wights forward. Where his White Walkers were slowly failing, he would even the odds with numbers.

Then the sound of a babe’s cries filled the night sky. Joanna had given away the hiding spot. After a near killing blow to Tywin which sent the lord to the ground, a White Walker moved quickly toward the sound of the babe.

Bran knew what was to come next. He had seen it in visions. The circumstances and location had been blurred, but the act was clear. Recognizing her cousin’s danger, little Cat ran out from her hiding spot and towards Joanna.

Mimicking a babe’s cry, she caught the White Walker’s attention.

 _She means to trick the creature_. _Make it think the sound was her._

From his vantage point, Bran could barely see the outline of Tyrion and Sansa quieting Joanna. Sansa moved the babe back to her breast in a desperate bid to muffle the cries. The effort worked as the White Walker moved toward little Cat.

As the creature walked forward, little Cat stood defiantly in defense of her cousin’s location. Genna ran out from the thicket and shoved Catelyn away just in time. She reached out shakily with her dragonglass blade, but the White Walker easily outmatched her.

He grabbed Genna’s wrist with one hand while thrusting his ice sword through her throat. Tywin had been running to aid them and he screamed out as blood poured down his leg. Limping hurriedly towards the White Walker, Tywin engaged the creature before it could turn its attention back to little Cat.

The White Walker spun quickly and swung at Tywin. The force of its blow knocked Tywin to the ground again. His blade fell from his hand and the older lord struggled to right himself. Before the creature could land a killing blow, a fast-moving figure came into view.

Leaping off a weirwood stump, Brienne hurtled towards the creature, pushing her blade through its chest. The creature shattered into a million icy pieces as Brienne landed over Tywin’s prone body. Moving quickly to Catelyn, Brienne scooped up her daughter in her arms.

The little girl screamed and reached back towards Genna who lay lifeless on the ground. Blood poured from underneath Genna’s body, sullying the fresh blanket of snow that had fallen the day prior. Tywin retrieved his blade and stood as tears streamed down his face at the sight of his sister.

Fighting off wights with one hand while holding Catelyn in her left arm, Brienne tried to move back towards the weirwood. Bran knew that Brienne would try to have Catelyn climb the tree to safety, but Bran saw there were too many wights. Brienne was being surrounded rapidly.

Barristan saw the threat to the queen and heir. Grabbing Endrew, they moved quickly towards Brienne with blades held high. That left Selwyn, Jaime, and Jon fending off five White Walkers and wights as Tywin stumbled back towards the men.

_There are too many._

Jon cut through another White Walker just as a wight pulled him backwards to the ground. More wights fell, including the wight tugging at Jon.

To the right of the tree, a White Walker was swinging wildly at Selwyn. The creature was too strong and fast for Selwyn. The older lord stumbled backwards, desperately trying to remain upright and keep his sword in place.

Abruptly, little Sel yanked away from Bran. The young tot climbed quickly towards a limb hanging just over Selwyn and the White Walker. With a might swing, the creature knocked the Valyrian steel from Sewlyn’s hand as the older lord fell to his back.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion from that point forward. Nearing the edge of the tree limb, little Sel looked down to his grandfather. Their eyes connected as the White Walker raised his sword high to land the killing blow.

From his hip, little Sel removed the dagger and dropped it to the ground beside Selwyn. Selwyn grabbed the dagger and surged upwards, thrusting the dagger into the White Walker’s gut but a mere second before the creature’s sword came down on Selwyn’s head.

At the sight of little Selwyn, the Night King had enough waiting. He moved forward towards the lower limb that the young boy sat on.

“No! Come back!” Bran screamed to the boy. At Bran’s scream, Jaime turned abruptly. Like a man possessed, Jaime sent a torrent of swings at a White Walker standing before him. As his blade felled the creature, Jaime ran towards the Night King to block the creature’s path to little Sel.

The tot sat on the limb, frozen in fear. Screaming to his son, Jaime implored him to move back towards Bran. Jaime charged the Night King with his sword held high. Bran quickly scanned the area knowing that Jaime could not win the fight alone. Barristan, Brienne, and Endrew were fighting off hundreds of wights as the queen held little Cat protectively.

The soldiers at the rear of the tree were now a group of three including Pod. The young man was the least skilled of the group but still, Pod managed to hold his own.

Jon and Tywin were trying to beat back the remaining two White Walkers, but Tywin was too weak. As Jon was able to fell one of the creatures, Tywin was again knocked to the ground by the second. Before the creature could land a killing blow, Jon blocked the strike, saving Tywin. 

Selwyn had barely stood before he was overrun with wights from the east. The older lord tried to fend them off as wights climbed atop his massive shoulders and pulled him back to the ground. The Night King moved purposefully towards little Sel as Selwyn was unable to stand up and give aid.

Bran’s eyes darted back to Jaime as he charged the Night King. Aiming his sword, Jaime screamed out. The Night King hardly looked at Jaime as he extended his sword to meet Jaime’s blade. The force of the cretaure’s block sent Jaime’s own blade backwards, nearly cutting through his face.

Recovering quickly, Jaime swung again. Jaime appeared little more than a nuisance to the Night King. A pebble in his path to the ultimate prize. Jaime again screamed to his son. “Go back to Bran! Now!”

As if shaken from a trance, little Sel scrambled back toward Bran. The Night King moved to swipe his blade at the boy, but Jaime again lunged at the creature. Now irritated beyond measure, the Night King turned to face Jaime fully.

Blocking the blow, the creature struck Jaime hard in the chest with his free hand. The hit sent Jaime hurtling backwards several feet. Jaime clutched his chest and gasped for air. The force of the strike had been almost enough to shatter every bone in his chest.

As Jaime rolled to his side, he reached for his blade and grabbed it just in time to block a killing blow from the Night King. Rolling away from the creature, Jaime tried to stand, but the Night King was standing over him again. Kicking Jaime hard in the ribs, the Night King raised his sword high to land the blow that would send Jaime to the Stranger.

From the corner of Bran’s eye, a loud roar filled the godswood and a flash of steel swung out to block the Night King’s blow. Tywin landed protectively over his son; a true lion if ever there was one. Before Tywin could swing his sword again, the Night King spun quickly.

As the Night King spun, his sword took aim. With a violent thrust, the Night King pushed his blade clear through Tywin’s gut. Rolling onto his back in time to see the Night King’s blade exit his father’s back, Jaime looked up in horror. Blood splattered all over Jaime’s face as Tywin crumpled on top of him.

With his path to the tree clear, the Night King marched forward slowly, staring at Bran and the child he assumed to be little Tywin.

Bran saw it all come together then. Past. Present. Future. Every vision. Every lesson from his predecessor. Bran’s hand moved to the dragonsteel dagger at his hip. He looked back to the scene before him.

The world seemed to still around them.

Selwyn fought for his life below a pile of never-ending wights. The men at the rear of the tree were being overrun as wights reached the tree trunk. Brienne, Barristan, and Endrew were surrounded with the heir in the queen’s arm.

Bran looked to Jon just as his cousin finished felling the last White Walker.

Jon turned to see the Night King marching slowly towards the tree. It was his time. His path was clear. Jon charged at the Night King like a man running toward salvation.

Bran threw the blade with everything he had to his intended recipient. At Jon’s approach, the Night King spun around in time to feel Jon’s blade meet his gut just as his own sword pushed through Jon’s chest. Jon’s strike would not be enough to kill the Night King. They needed the dragonsteel dagger for that.

The dagger was at the feet of the Prince Who was Promised.

As Jon’s sword pinned the Night King against the tree, the creature grabbed Jon’s throat and squeezed. Blood spluttered from Jon’s mouth as his eyes met the creature’s face.

Bran’s eyes glanced back to the Prince Who was Promised. The dagger was at Jaime’s feet as he held his father. Tears streamed down Jaime’s face as he cradled Tywin’s head. Then Jaime saw the dagger and looked to where Jon had the creature pinned.

As Jon gasped, he tried to keep his weight against the Night King, effectively preventing the creature from removing the Valyrian steel pinning him to the weirwood. “Ser Jaime. Help.”

Bran watched as Jaime grabbed the dagger and sprinted towards the pair at the tree trunk. Bran’s mind wandered.

_‘_ _When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt.’_

When the dead began their march on the living and the red comet came, the War of the Five Kings had begun. Jaime was captured by Robb and ultimately sent off with Brienne. When Jaime lost his hand, the Kingslayer died. The man that Jaime was meant to be forged a new path. That is when his journey began.

That journey brought him to this moment. Born again amidst smoke and salt. The smoke hung heavy over the godswood. The salt of Jaime’s tear stained face clung to his cheeks.

Bran recalled his conversation with Jojen while they were captives north of the wall. Meera asked her brother the only question that Bran cared to know the answer to at the time.

_‘How will we know the end?’_

Meera couldn’t see it, but Jojen and Bran could. Jojen’s right hand caught fire and the boy stared at his flaming appendage. Jojen kept his eyes fixed on the flames as he answered in naught but a whisper.

_“You’ll know.”_

Surging forward, the flames that engulfed the dead and the fire licking at the living’s swords lit up the godswood and cut through the smoke. Jaime’s right hand, his golden hand, caught the light. It made his right hand appear to be aflame as Jojen’s hand once was.

With a loud cry, Jaime dove against Jon and the Night King, piercing the creature in the chest with the dragonsteel blade.

_‘_ _Close to the heart. It will push the cold away. Push death away’_

At the act, the ice covering the Night King’s body melted away revealing the man underneath. A human expression filled the Night King’s eyes. Shock.

The shock was then replaced by something else. Realization.

Looking down to his chest, blood poured from the Night King’s mouth and his breathing faltered. Taking in his last breath, the Night King’s head hung as his body remained pinned against the tree by Jon’s Valyrian steel sword. The dragonsteel dagger sat wedged in his chest.

At the Night King’s last breath, all the wights fell to the ground. Dropping to his knees, Jaime sobbed into his flesh hand as his forehead met the icy ground before the weirwood tree. Bran’s eyes darted around to appraise the survivors.

Barristan dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest and gasping for breath. No injuries were visible, but the aged knight was struggling for air. Endrew eased Barristan to the ground and held his hand. “You’re alright Ser. It’s over. You did it. You protected the queen. You protected the heir.”

Brienne held Cat close and sobbed into the young girl’s neck. She clutched Barristan’s shoulder before running over to the thicket to check on little Ty. Pulling the young boy out, Bran could see the tot was awake, but in a daze.

Tyrion, Sansa, and Joanna emerged from their hiding spot. Their eyes were wide in shock and pooling with tears as they appraised the scene before them. Then Tyrion’s eyes landed on his father. Running over, Tyrion fell to his knees at Tywin’s lifeless form.

Selwyn staggered over and joined Tyrion, sobbing over his fallen friend. Below him, Bran watched as Jon’s body fell lifelessly to the ground beside Jaime.

The Prince Consort. The Prince Who was Promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. To quote Forrest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."


	26. Still With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime learns of the loss of life following the battle

Jaime didn’t know for how long he knelt on the ground; his forehead pressed into his palm against the snowy field. He knew that Jon was dead to his right. He knew the Night King was dead and pinned to the tree before him. He knew that Tywin was dead at his back. Tywin’s death was the one that physically hurt to think on.

The blood that dripped from his face to the snow, mixed together with sweat and tears, was his father’s. Jaime couldn’t bring himself to look up from the ground.

When Brienne joined him on the ground with their triplets pressed between them, Jaime sobbed. Their little hands splayed over his back and shoulders. Their faces pressed close to his head, whispering his name.

Sitting upright, he pulled them close and breathed in deeply. Jaime reached out with his flesh hand to tug Brienne close so that he was holding all four of them.

_I almost lost them as we lost so many others._

The sound of distant voices from the east reached Jaime’s ears. The living were coming to find out what happened. Sitting back on his heels, Jaime forced himself to turn and look at his father’s body.

Selwyn, Tyrion, Sansa, and little Joanna were huddled around his body. All seemed too emotionally exhausted to do little more than sit there staring at Tywin’s lifeless form.

Soon thereafter, Sansa handed Joanna to Tyrion and walked slowly towards Jon. She knelt beside his fallen body where Bran now sat on the ground.

“He sacrificed himself. He pinned the Night King to the tree so that Ser Jaime could end him. If he had fallen away, the Night King would have had time to remove the sword holding him in place.” Bran’s voice was small as he looked to Jon.

Sansa reached across and placed a hand on Bran’s shoulder. “They all need proper burials. Jon, Tywin, and Genna. All the living who died saving us.”

At the mention of Genna’s name, Jaime’s heart faltered. “My aunt? She’s dead?”

_When? How? I only felt Brienne leave my side, screaming for Catelyn and my father._

Fresh tears fell as Jaime looked around frantically. With a gentle hand to his shoulder, Brienne met his eyes with tears in hers. “She saved Catelyn.”

Jaime grabbed Catelyn’s head in his hands. “Why did you leave your hiding spot? What were you thinking?”

“Baby Joanna cry. Aunt Genna was sad. Say bad man go get her.” Catelyn spoke solemnly.

Sansa lunged forward and scooped the young girl into her arms, holding her close. “She saved us. She saved Joanna. Joanna cried out and that thing was coming for us. Catelyn jumped out and immitted Joann’s cries. She saved us.”

Jaime couldn’t believe his ears. His brave little two-year-old saved her newborn cousin.

_She’ll make a proper queen; so much like her mother. Protector of the realm. Protector of innocents._

Bran smiled from his spot on the forest floor. Judging by Pod’s position at his back, Jaime assumed the young man had helped Bran and little Sel down.

“Little Ty brought back the dragon and torched many of the dead, giving us the best chance. Little Sel saved his namesake. That was how the Night King nearly got to him.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He appraised his sons who smiled widely. Little Sel jumped up with a roar.

“Alwe cawwy dagga.”

A light laugh pushed passed Jaime’s lips.

 _Gods. My children are little heroes._ _Where did they even come from?_

As the voices of the living grew closer, Jaime turned his head towards them. Endrew’s voice cut through the crisp night air. “Cover the bodies of our lords and lady, lads. Show the dead their respect.” Jaime watched as the three remaining knights removed their cloaks and moved towards Genna, Jon, and Tywin.

Ser Endrew’s voice again caught Jaime’s attention. “Stay down Ser. Just breathe. Don’t try to move.”

Giving the children to Brienne, Jaime jumped to his feet and ran towards Barristan and Endrew. The older knight lay on his back, gasping for air. He clutched at his chest and his face looked ashen.

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Jaime desperately tried to check Barristan for wounds, but he found none.

Barristan pointed to his chest and panted. “Chest. Hurts.”

Selwyn ran over and appraised the man. “It’s his heart. It’s failing him. He fought for three of us out there. Me and… Ty. We struggled.” At the mention of his father, Selwyn grimaced and wiped at his eyes.

Endrew yelled to one of the men. “Ser Henson. Find Sam Tarly, quickly. Ser Barristan needs aid.”

At Endrew’s words, Bran called out. “That won’t save him.”

Jaime grabbed Barristan’s hand and shook his head. “Don’t you dare dream of dying now. Don’t leave me with just Ser Endrew. He doesn’t appreciate my japes.”

Barristan smiled lightly, but his breathing was becoming more labored. At Jaime’s back, Brienne and the triplets approached. The children gathered around the knight as Brienne knelt by Jaime.

Jaime scanned the area frantically and saw a throng of living soldiers staring wordlessly at the scene before them. Their eyes scanned the godswood taking in the sight of the fallen, their surviving saviors, and the Night King’s dead body pinned to the tree.

As eyes began to land on Barristan, a low murmur spread through sea of humanity. The men began to part down the middle and turn their heads quietly. Melisandre emerged from among the crowd and walked slowly towards them. 

An eerie silence fell over the godswood as the red priestess kept her eyes fixed on Ser Barristan. Her face was expressionless as she stepped to fallen knight’s side and peered down at him. Looking back to the aged knight, Jaime saw the Barristan fading. His skin was clammy and his breathing all but stopped.

Melisandre repeated her words from before the battle. “You’ll protect your queen as Ser Duncan protected his king. To the last breath.” With that, Barristan’s eyes rolled back, and he left their world.

Kneeling down, Melisandre placed her hands on Barristan’s chest and stared at his lifeless face. “The Lord of Light is not done with you yet.”

The priestess began chanting in a language that Jaime couldn’t understand. The pendant of her necklace began to glow a bright red as she spoke; her voice growing louder with each word.

Suddenly, Barristan’s hand squeezed Jaime’s tightly and the knight’s eyes flew open. He sucked in a deep breath and looked up to the night sky.

His eyes scanned their small group as Melisandre stood and began to walk away wordlessly. When Barristan’s eyes landed on Brienne, he spoke in a whisper. “I saw your great-grandfather. Ser Duncan. He said, ‘not yet’.”

Brienne choked back a sob and dove at the aged knight, pulling his head into her arms. Looking to Melisandre with desperation in his eyes, Jaime stood. “The others? Can you raise Jon, my aunt, and my father? What of those outside the godswood?”

“I can only bring back those still in the flames. Those the Lord of Light is not done with. They played their part in this world. They will meet you in the next.”

Shaking his head in refusal, Jaime countered her words. “No. They weren’t done. None of them were.”

At Jaime’s side, Ty grabbed his hand. Jaime looked down at his little boy whose eyes smiled up at him. “I see grandpa. He with grandma now. He happy.”

_Jon told Tyrion there is only darkness. There is nothing. They’re just gone._

Shaking his head, Jaime picked up the young boy and forced a smile. “That’s a very nice dream you had.”

“Not a dream. Grandma say take care of new babe. She say she go here now.” Little Ty jabbed a tiny finger at Jaime’s chest. The words and movement startled Jaime. A memory from over thirty years prior bubbled to the surface.

Jaime sat outside his parent’s room at Casterly Rock. To his right, Cersei sat beside him playing with her doll. They had been told to wait in their room, but the sound of their mother screaming brought them both down the long hallway.

Looking over his shoulder and down the massive staircase towards his father’s study, Jaime wondered where his father was.

_Does he hear momma? Why isn’t he with her?_

More screams from inside the room filled the castle halls. The sound of frantic voices inside reached Jaime’s ears and he bolted to his feet. His heart was hammering in his chest as he stared at the door.

To his side, Cersei stood and grabbed his hand. “Why does she sound like that?”

Then they heard the sound of a babe crying. Unable to control himself any longer, Jaime surged into the room. The room smelled of looming death. Blood saturated the linens that were crumbled on the floor as the maester called for more rags.

Jaime’s eyes went wide as he saw his mother’s ashen face. Her head lolled from side to side and he ran to her side. “Momma!”

At Jaime’s presence, Joanna reached for his face. She smiled weakly and spoke breathlessly. “My boy. My little lion.”

The midwife screamed at Jaime and Cersei to get out. It was then that Jaime realized Cersei was at his side. Cersei’s eyes were ride and frightened as she looked to her mother.

Joanna moved her shaking hand to Cersei’s face then. “My girl. Be strong.”

As the midwife grabbed their arms and tugged them towards the door, Jaime broke free and ran back to his mother. She smiled warmly and cupped his cheek. “Protect them. Your siblings. I’ll be here now.” Joanna placed her finger on Jaime’s chest and held his eyes.

The midwife moved back towards Jaime and pulled him from the room. As the door shut before them, Jaime heard the midwife being to sob moments later.

As Jaime looked to little Ty in the godswood, a teary smile lined his face. He could do little more than nod at his son before holding him close. 

The living would hold a mass funeral later that day. They lined the bodies of the fallen outside the gates of Harrenhal. All commanders reported their remaining numbers. Prince Oberyn’s men took one of the greatest hits as they were positioned closest to the God’s Eye along the eastern wall of the castle. He lost half his men in the battle, but the Viper was as alive and confident as ever.

The Reach and the West had been positioned the furthest from the God’s Eye and had many among them survive the battle. At word of Addam’s death, Jaime grieved as he had for his father and aunt. In the day leading up to the battle, Addam had sat beside Jaime as they watched the tots play in the courtyard.

Addam watched the children with a wide smile on his face. Turning to Jaime, he raised a brow. “You plan to have more of these? They’re awfully energetic.”

Jaime had huffed a laugh. “When the war is done, I fully intend to return to performing my consortly duties.”

Addam snorted and patted Jaime’s back. “Daenerys thinks she can’t have babes. I pray to the Seven every night for just one. I’m thinking a nice little redhead we can name Tormund. Tormund Marbrand. He will grow up to marry Catelyn Lannister.”

Jaime nearly choked on his water and looked to Addam with wide eyes. “Have I ever told you how annoying you are? Far worse than Tormund was. It must be a redhead thing.”

Addam guffawed and patted Jaime on the knee before getting up to chase the children around the yard. Watching them play together, Jaime prayed to the Seven that Addam would live to hold a babe of his own.

Of the Wildlings and Unsullied, almost half were gone. Grey Worm survived the battle but lost an ear for his troubles. He was surprisingly good humored about it when Jaime asked after his health. “Now I no have to hear you brother terrible jokes.” Tyrion feigned offense, but Jaime could see the amusement on his brother’s face.

The North was also hard hit. Ser Jorah led the men well and saved Daenerys from being overrun at one point. For her part, the young Targaryen saved many lives in the Widow’s Tower.

Daenerys saw the wights rushing inside the Keep when the eastern wall collapsed, and she was able to lead half to safety across the bridge to the Kingspyre Tower. The level of the Widow’s Tower that the children had been on was not so lucky.

Much to Jaime’s dismay, Gendry lived. Of course, he had saved Arya during the retreat from the Widow’s Tower. The young wolf was still too wounded to fight, but she had been trying to get everyone to safety with Daenerys. That was how they knew that the level the children had been on was overrun.

Arya had gone in search of them. She was frantic and thought her sister, niece, and the triplets were dead. The level was one of the first to be reached by the dead and Arya scoured every room. When the dead overran her, Gendry was there to rescue her.

The young man had heard that Arya was in the Widow’s Tower and went inside, desperately trying to find her. Jaime had watched them in the courtyard after the brief council to assess the death toll.

He stood at Arya’s side and reached for her hand. That Arya accepted the gesture did not go unnoticed to Jaime.

_Seven hells. Why won’t this fucking Baratheon line just die off already? Gods, he looks like Renly. Now I’ll never convince Brienne to feed him to the dragons._

By all reports, Gendry had fought bravely among the Stormlands forces before rushing to aid Daenerys and ultimately, Arya. The rest of the Stormlands did not fare as well. They lost two-thirds of their men.

The men from the Stormlands had bravely broken through the main gates once they heard of the God’s Eye freezing over. Their intention was to cutoff the path of the White Walkers and the Night King from their queen.

They met the creatures head on, buying what Bran later observed to be enough time for the living in the godswood to kill enough wights. Had the living not had more time to reduce the wights numbers, they would have been overwhelmed when the White Walkers and the Night King arrived.

Jaime had also received reports from the Vale and the Riverlands. It was with immense relief that a gruff voice called out to him before they lined up for the funeral.

“Kingslayer!”

There was only one man in all of Westeros who still called Jaime that. Ser Brynden Tully. The Blackfish.

Jaime turned to see a smirk on the man’s face. “Now a Kingslayer twice over. You’ll be insufferable about this, I’m certain. Saving all of our asses twice now.”

Jaime snorted at the man’s words and watched as the Blackfish hobbled over. He had taken a massive gash to his right leg during the battle. “I hadn’t had a proper swordfight in years.”

As Brynden reached Jaime, his smile faded. “I’m sorry to have heard of your father and Genna. Genna was a good woman. Your father… well… he was a shit. He did seem _improved_ of late though.”

Jaime smiled and nodded in thanks. A large arm came around Jaime’s shoulders as Brynden leaned his weight onto Jaime. “Come now, help an old, injured knight to the lines. You seem reasonably strong.”

Helping Brynden out towards the sea of living amassed for the funeral, Jaime guided Brynden to the front of the Riverlands’ forces. Once reaching their destination, Jaime turned to leave, but Brynden grabbed his shoulder.

“You did well. You’ll have quite the page in that bloody book. I do think your wife’s page is still a bit more impressive, but still... I’ll have to tell you some tales of the Ninepenny Kings. Your father was there of course, and boy do I have some stories! I recall our last attempt at the conversation was interrupted by my dreadful niece trying to woo you since you were so shit at it.”

_Oh Gods. Lysa fucking Tully. What a dreadful visit that was._

Jaime chucked and nodded to the man. “I would like that. Gods willing, Lysa won’t interrupt again. I’ve had enough of the dead coming back to life.”

With that Jaime turned to stand beside Brienne and Barristan. The older knight still looked to be in shock from the events only half a day ago. He looked to the east as they all did. The first rays of sunlight stretched over the horizon, casting long shadows over the rows of dead and living gathered to mourn them.

By the grace of the gods, these dead did not stand up. As the dragons passed above, burning the dead below, Jaime looked to the pyre at the front. He could see his father and Genna lying lifeless beside the other brave men and women who gave their lives.

Then Jaime thought back on what little Ty said. His father was with his mother again. They were happy.

Jaime looked to Brienne and put his left arm around her. The children stood before them and Jaime looked to Brienne, remembering what else Ty had said.

_‘Grandma say take care of new babe.’_


	27. Rebuilding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olenna returns from Essos with the refugees from Storm's End. Margaery faces punishment.

Olenna watched as the ship neared the dock on the Blackwater. Only a moon turn after their arrival in Essos, Daenerys had arrived on the back of Drogon with word of their victory. The news had brought Olenna to her knees. Now as she looked up at the Red Keep from the front of the ship, Olenna thought back on the brief conversation with Daenerys.

“Thank the Gods, girl! You’re alive? Have you fled? What of the rest of them?”

Daenerys smiled and placed a warm hand on Olenna’s shoulder. “We won. The dead no longer rise nad the living are beginning to rebuild.”

The young Targaryen told her of it all. She told her of the Night King’s attacks on the evacuation sites. The narrow escape made at King’s Landing by the crown. The final battle. The Night King’s fall.

_Jaime did it. That great dolt did it. Gods. I may even kiss him._

Thinking on Jaime reminded Olenna of Tommen. Olenna had looked back at Margaery and cast an uneasy glance towards Daenerys. “I suppose we best get going then. Time to return home.”

Daario led the small fleet that returned the living to Westeros. He had been a kind host for the brief time the refugees were under his protection in Meereen. 

Now as Olenna stood on the deck of the ship, she worried at whether to share what she knew. She did not want to deceive the queen and prince consort regarding the legitimacy of Margaery’s babe, but she also didn’t want to see harm befall her granddaughter and great-grandbabe.

The trip up to the Keep was mercifully short. Olenna was eager to see her friend, Genna, and recount tales of the past moon turns. While Daenerys shared the overall outcome of the war, she had not shared much detail in who did or did not survive.

_I can’t wait to tell Genna of life in Meereen! There are some lovely men walking about there. Mayhap we could take a trip and enjoy the manscape._

Olenna entered the Keep with Margaery close at her heels. Margaery was now starting to show as she was a few moons along. Most surprising to see was the state of the city. Large portions of it appeared to have been set aflame. Olenna assumed that is what Daenerys meant by a narrow escape at King’s Landing.

As the doors opened to the throne room, Olenna smiled widely at the sight of Brienne and Jaime. The triplets were running around laughing and Olenna’s heart warmed at the vision before her. Upon seeing her enter, the triplets came running.

The children nearly knocked her over with excitement. Olenna had never felt so relieved to see them alive and well. To the side of the room, other members of the small council were present as well as some faces not ordinarily present.

Oberyn, Ser Barristan, and Daenerys were talking with Bran, Sam, and Davos. As Olenna made her way forward, she curtseyed to Brienne and Jaime. On cue, Brienne rolled her eyes and Jaime snorted. They were never ones for the formalities their positions demanded.

Olenna stepped forward and pulled Brienne into a firm hug. She grabbed Brienne’s head and yanked it down to kiss the top of her head. “Gods, I forgot how tall you are. I’ll have a pain my neck for a week now. I’m so pleased we didn’t lose you. I couldn’t have endured your husband as regent until Princess Catelyn comes of age.”

Brienne chuckled and nodded eagerly. “Yes, I think all of Westeros may well have decided to begin life anew in Essos at that rate.”

Feigning offense, Jaime stepped back and placed his hand on his chest. “And here I thought we could have made a great team making all manner of new laws together, Lady Olenna.”

_Insufferable man. Gods I missed him._

Pulling Jaime into a tight embrace, Olenna rubbed his back. “You did good. I am pleased you are not dead, nor your ass torn off.”

“So you finally admit to enjoying the view. I’m glad this time apart has allowed you to reflect on the matter.”

Pushing Jaime away, Olenna swatted at him. “Gods! You ruin every nice moment.” With a heavy sigh, Olenna shook her head. “Now, where is our Master of Coin!? I have so much to discuss with her over tea!”

Jaime’s face fell at the words and Olenna needed him to say no more. “No. It can’t be.” Tears pricked at the back of Olenna’s eyes. She felt her chin quiver as she reached for Jaime’s arm. “I’m so sorry. She was an incredible woman, Jaime.”

With a small nod, Jaime looked away; the wound still too fresh. Olenna looked around the room and felt a deep fear strike her. “The grandfathers. Where are they?”

Brienne spoke in a small voice as Jaime was unable to answer. “My father is well. He is back on Tarth tending to matters. My goodfather… he did not survive.”

Olenna looked back to Jaime who could do little more than look to the floor. Her voice was breathless as she asked after Jaime’s brother and family. “Tyrion? Sansa and the babe?”

Brienne grabbed Olenna’s arm quickly. “Oh, Tyrion is well! He, Sansa, and Joanna are taking rest in their room. Little Joanna was quite fussy last night. They did not see much rest. When the Night King attacked the West, they got out through the tunnels. Like most of the evacuation sites, the rest of the people in or just outside Lannisport were not so fortunate.”

_Thank the Gods, but Jaime lost them all save Tyrion. I’m afraid to ask after Myrcella, but judging by his face, she didn’t survive either. I imagine he knows of Tommen since he isn’t with us._

“We were with Tommen before he decided to stay with his people. You would have been very proud.”

Jaime nodded. “I heard. I’m quite proud of him.”

_He heard?_

Olenna cocked a brow at Jaime, but he refused to make eye contact.

“Lady Olenna, lets go to the study. You and Lady Margaery. We have some things to discuss.” Brienne extended a hand towards the hallway leading to the study. As the queen moved forward, Olenna cast a knowing look back at Margaery.

_I will not lie to our queen. Do not expect my aid for what you’ve done._

Entering the study, Olenna observed only Barristan following. “Where are the rest of the Queensguard?”

With a sad smile, Brienne shook her head. “Only Ser Barristan and Ser Endrew survived.”

Olenna sighed and shook her head. “So much death. Gods, even Addam? I can’t imagine how Daenerys is feeling.”

Jaime bristled slightly at the mention of Addam. Another reminder to Olenne of all Jaime and Tyrion had lost.

_Tywin. Genna. Myrcella. Tommen. Likely his kin at Lannisport. Addam._

As Brienne closed the door behind them, she extended her hand towards the small table near the window. Jaime pulled the chairs out for the ladies and took his seat beside Brienne once the women were situated.

Brienne took a deep breath and looked to Jaime. He was staring at the table so intently that Olenna worried he may burn a hole through it.

“After much consideration and debate, I have decided that Storm’s End will pass to Gendry Baratheon. I’ve legitimized him as he is King Robert’s only living son and heir. He fought bravely for the living. He protected those important to us.”

At her last sentence, Brienne spoke pointedly to Jaime. Olenna sensed the direction this was going. She raised a brow at Margaery and huffed lightly.

Brienne tilted her head and appraised Margaery. She spoke challengingly. “Perhaps you know him, Lady Margaery.”

Margaery lifted her chin to meet the queen’s eyes. “I don’t know who…”

“Don’t you dare lie to your queen! Tell them the truth of it, girl!” Olenna snapped at Margaery. They had this conversation several times over. Olenna would not say anything unless asked outright. She would never lie to the queen, nor would she allow Margaery to.

“Storm’s End is mine. I am Lady Margaery Baratheon. My husband…”

“Was too good for you.” Hate filled Jaime’s tone as he glared at Margaery. “Try again. Do you know Gendry?”

With a sigh, Margaery crossed her arms and sunk back against the chair. “We love one another.”

Jaime snorted and raised a brow at Brienne. Holding up her hand, Brienne ignored Jaime. “I do not believe he returns the sentiment. You lied to the boy and told him the crown wanted him dead. You told Gendry that all of Robert’s bastards were to have been killed. You told him that he could only reamin alive if he slept with you. Your aim was to kill Tommen and take Gendry as your husband. Knowing Gendry’s claim, you though he would make a stronger lord once legitimized. Fortunately, the castle staff did not allow the meals you tampered with to reach Tommen’s lips.”

Olenna gasped at the information. Her head snapped to Margaery who had gone ashen. “How… you had spies at Storm’s End!?”

“I can assure you Lady Margaery, we have no need of spies. Ask your grandmother what she thinks of Lord Bran. He is quite _informative_. He corroborated the tale that Gendry gave Ser Jaime after they had a _conversation_.”

With an innocent shrug, Jaime raised a brow at Brienne and mouthed something to her that Olenna could not make out.

Turning her attention back to Margaery, Brienne continued. “You likely won’t find this a surprise Lady Margaery, but you are being stripped of your titles and birthright. When Lady Olenna leaves this world, Highgarden will pass to your babe. I will legitimize the child as a Tyrell, but you will be sent to the Silent Sisters.”

Olenna felt a wave of relief and gratitude wash over her.

_They could have done so much worse. Margaery best keep her mouth shut._

“You can’t separate me from my babe!”

Brienne bit her lip and looked down at the table. Shaking her head, she sighed and looked to Jaime. Jaime was livid. He stared at Margaery with the deepest hate in his eyes. Olenna mused that if looks could kill, Margaery would be naught but ash.

Jaime’s returning words were stern. “Her grace could do far worse. I for one don’t trust you in any position of power.”

Margaery stood abruptly and looked to Olenna. “Grandmother! You can’t allow this.”

“Margaery… keep you mouth shut. They do you a kindness. One that I would not be so quick to give.”

“No! This is far too extreme a punishment! He birthed bastards who sat on the throne! Why are his titles and birthrights not stripped!?” Margaery cast an accusing finger across the table at Jaime.

Olenna stood abruptly and screamed at Margaery. “How dare you! You do not speak about the Prince Consort that way!”

Jaime’s voice reached Olenna’s ears. His tone matter-off-fact. “I do not deny it. The difference, Lady Margaery, is that your punishment is not solely for infidelity, attempted murder, and passing a bastard off as a trueborn. It is for participating in the murder of King Joffrey Baratheon.”

At Jaime’s words, both women looked to him in shock. Jaime raised a challenging brow. “As I said, the queen could order far worse.”

Margaery and Olenna sat down in shock, staring at the queen and prince consort. Taking a deep breath, Brienne looked to Margaery and spoke commandingly.

“You will remain here in King’s Landing until the birth of your babe so that we can better monitor you. When the babe is born, we will provide a wet nurse and your grandmother can either raise the babe in your stead or hire a septa. You will be sent to the Silent Sisters immediately. I believe it would be far crueler to allow you to spend so much time bonding with the babe, only to take him or her from you later.”

Margaery began to sob. “I didn’t mean any of it. I love Gendry. It was wrong about Tommen, but Gendry and I love one another. Don’t do this to us.”

With a longsuffering sigh, Brienne pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did he tell you that or did you dream it? He does not seem so fond of you. The boy has already made a match. A love match.”

At the words, Olenna observed Jaime stiffen in barely concealed irritation. He supplied a slight amendment to Brienne’s words. “The offer has been extended at least.”

Brienne snorted and rolled her eyes. “And the crown has approved at the young woman’s acceptance.”

Looking back to Margaery, Brienne nodded. “That is all Lady Margaery. Lady Olenna, we would ask that you remain behind for a moment.”

_I suppose I’ll get to see my friend soon enough. They have every right to my head for what I’ve done to Joffrey._

Margaery stormed out form the room sobbing. As the door closed, Olenna shifted slightly. She looked to Jaime and raised a brow. “I am only sorry that it hurt you. I mean that. I am not sorry for doing it. The boy was a monster and would have hurt or killed my granddaughter.”

Jaime nodded and met Olenna’s eyes. “I know what Joffrey was, but your actions had me placed under false arrest. My wife nearly lost her life acting as my champion.”

Olenna hung her head in shame. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. “Will you allow me to live long enough to hold my first great-grandbabe then?”

Jaime snorted at Brienne’s side. For her part, the queen’s eyes went wide. It was Jaime who spoke. “My House hardly kept their hands clean; myself included.” Jaime paused and when he next spoke, there was a teasing lilt in his voice. “I imagine we’ll just have to keep you here and monitor your scheming more closely. Besides, you’re fucking old. You’re likely to die from a stiff breeze any day now.”

Olenna snorted and shook her head. “Gods. The ultimate punishment then. Stuck here with you.”

Brienne looked to Olenna and spoke seriously. “We mean to update you on the state of the Reach. If you wish to retain your position on the small council, I regret to inform you that you will need to name a castellan. I’m sorry, but Lord Mace did not make it.”

_My sweet boy. A bumbling idiot, but sweet._

They spent the next hour discussing matters concerning the Reach. Olenna was surprised to hear how few people remained near the interior of the Reach. The villages and towns closer to the coast and away from Oldtown had been more fortunate.

_I have much work to do. We all do._

When they finished, the trio made their way towards the great hall for a meal. Olenna was thrilled to see Tyrion, Sansa, and little Joanna at the table. Little Ty asked an array of questions about Essos. Little Sel spent the meal begging his parents for the dagger back that he had shown Olenna.

_Gods! Why does this child have a dagger!? Genna wasn’t kidding. Those dolt grandfathers lost all control._

Genna. At the thought of her friend, Olenna’s eyes grew misty. Jaime sat with little Cat on his lap and furrowed his brows at her.

“Gods. Is Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, crying? I know you’re overwhelmed with joy at the sight of my face, but surely you can keep it together a while longer.”

Olenna scoffed and inclined her head towards Joanna. “That little beauty puts your face to shame.”

Jaime leaned over towards Joanna who was asleep in Tyrion’s arms. “Gods damnit Joanna. Now I told you to stop that. I’m meant to be the pretty one. Give a nice scowl like your aunt has been teaching you.”

Interrupting the meal, Arya came bounding into the hall with Gendry at her heels. She ran to the open seat at Jaime’s side when Tyrion left to take Joanna to the nursery. Judging by the way Gendry was looking at Arya and the way Jaime was scowling at Gendry, it was obvious to Olenna who Gendry’s love match was.

The young wolf reached onto Jaime’s plate and grabbed his roll, taking a bite. “So? Will you do it?”

Jaime scoffed and grabbed the bread from Arya’s hand. Taking a bite from the bread, Jaime played at indecision.

Arya snatched the bread back and took another bite herself. Her eyes remained fixed on Jaime as he hummed in consideration and put on a grand show of it.

“I have a condition.”

“Oh gods. Now what?” Arya deflated slightly.

“Can I stab him just a little bit? Just a small scratch or ten?” Jaime pinched his fingers together as he dramatized how ‘minor’ the request was. At the words, Gendry flinched from down the table.

“No!”

Jaime deflated and threw back his head. “Fine.”

“Yes!? You’ll do it?” Arya turned to face Jaime more fully and studied his face.

With a small laugh, Jaime dropped any jest from his tone. “Of course, I will. I was going to even if you didn’t ask. Anyone else would do a shit job.”

Arya snorted, but leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Jaime’s neck. “Good. No adding titles when the time comes! I’ve seen your handiwork before. The lines are simple enough that you shouldn’t fuck it up too much.”

Jaime sighed and met her eyes. “I won’t add _too many_ titles.”

“No extra titles! Don’t make me consider a Sept instead so that you have no opportunity to speak.”

Olenna slowly realized what was going on.

_Arya means to have Jaime play the role of her father at her wedding. Gods help the poor girl. I can’t imagine what he’ll say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter. It is a 15 year hop ahead to see where everyone is at.


	28. Seventeen Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17 years later, the family comes together to celebrate a betrothal.

Jaime brought his horse to a stop in the courtyard of Storm’s End. The entire Baratheon household was lined up to greet them. Eager staff members clamored to get a view of the royal party. Looking to Brienne, Jaime groaned like a petulant child. “I don’t want to do this.”

A small chuckle pushed past Brienne’s lips as she met his eyes. “A bit late for that now. You’ve already agreed.”

“I agreed to no such thing. Catelyn agreed and then _you_ allowed this nonsense. Trust me, I do not agree.”

Brienne leaned over form her horse and placed a gentle hand on Jaime’s forearm. “Remember, the boy is half Arya after all. Try to think of it that way.”

Jaime huffed in irritation as his eyes scanned the Baratheon family. His daughter. His beautiful baby girl and heir to the Iron Throne, had accepted the proposal of Ned fucking Baratheon.

_Truly. Those two men haunt me even in death. Gods damn you Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon. I hate you. Hate. Hate. Hate._

Catelyn and Ned spent many days together growing up. Storm’s End was a short distance from the capital, and given how close Arya was with Jaime and Brienne, that meant their children saw each other often. Ned was the oldest at six and ten. His parents wasted no time conceiving him after their betrothal and rushed wedding in the godswood of King’s Landing.

Arya and Gendry had two more children after Ned. A daughter of three and ten named Brienne. Another daughter of one and ten named Sansa. Jaime had to admit, he quite liked the girls. They were much like their mother; feisty little things with a natural talent for swordplay.

Jaime looked over his shoulder to Catelyn and Ty. He was dismayed to see his daughter smiling widely at Ned from across the courtyard. Ty was busy biting back a laugh. The _not so_ little shit had said this would happen over ten years ago, and Jaime insisted Ty’s powers were fading.

Ty had grown into a fine young man. He spent a lot of time with Lord Bran, who had initially been named the Master of Whispers after the Long Night but had instead spent most of his years as Lord Hand.

Tyrion had remained in the role as Hand for a year following the Long Night, but the needs of the West were calling. The kingdom had suffered greatly from the Long Night and the people desperately needed their liege lord and Warden.

Jaime and Brienne made it a point to visit the West often. They wished for their children to remain close and it warmed Jaime’s heart to see the strong bonds between cousins.

Cat was extremely close to Joanna; more like a protective big sister than cousin. It was a bond that Jaime saw coming after that fateful night in the godsowod at Harrenhal.

Tyrion and Sansa went on to have three other children after Joanna. They had a son of five and ten named Jaime. A son of two and ten named Robb. A girl of nine named Arya.

At seven and ten, Joanna was already betrothed to Addam Marbrand, Daenerys and Addam’s son. It still seemed like yesterday to Jaime when Daenerys realized she was with child.

When the babe was born with red hair and an infectious laugh, Jaime could think of no more fitting a name than Addam. He was pleased to hear that Daenerys was of the same mindset.

Daenerys had eventually remarried. Her dear friend Daario Naharis had remained in Westeros after returning everyone home from the Stormlands. The pair had two sons together and were happy making home between King’s Landing and Dragonstone.

With the wars over, the need for a Master of Dragons wasn’t as pressing as the other council positions. This pleased Daenerys as she was always welcome at court to visit her cousin and sit in on important meetings, but she had enough flexibility to enjoy life with her children on Dragonstone.

Bran turned out to be an excellent Hand when he wasn’t torturing Jaime. Despite the relentless japes from Bran, Jaime also appreciated the young man’s presence where it concerned Ty. Bran helped Ty sort through his gift; ‘The sight’ as they called it. It helped Ty to have someone who could guide him and help him understand his capabilities.

Jaime prayed to the Seven that Cat would be an old woman before Brienne let this world and Cat became queen, but one thing pleased Jaime when he thought into the future. He knew that Cat would never be alone. Cat had already declared that Ty would become Hand when she took the throne. If Lord Bran was still alive, he would again become Master of Whisperers.

Like his uncle, Ty was extremely intelligent and political. Coupled with his greensight, Ty would make a most impressive Hand. Like his uncle, Ty appreciated a woman who could challenge him intellectually.

Ty had his eye on a certain lady of Highgarden. Margaery had birthed a daughter, Lady Genna Tyrell. Of course, Olenna had picked the name in honor of her dear friend.

Like her grandmother, Lady Genna was quick of wit, intelligent, and protective of her kin. Unlike her mother, Genna was loyal and kind. When it became obvious the two youths were interested in one another, Jaime had teased Olenna relentlessly. “It’s the Lannister ass. You Tyrells can’t resist it.” Ty had already decided to propose to Genna when the were set to meet at the capital a moon from now.

As Jaime dismounted his horse, two booming voices spilled from the castle doors and into the courtyard. Big Sel and Bigger Sel came bursting through the castle laughing uproariously. The pair had been spending a lot of time together on Tarth.

Selwyn Lannister had been named heir to Tarth. He was spending much of his time on the island and learning from Selwyn Tarth as to its running and people.

Like his grandfather and Uncle Tyrion in youth, Selwyn had a deep _appreciation_ for the ladies of Westeros. Jaime imagined it might be some time before a woman captured Selwyn’s heart and not just his cock.

Brienne refused to hear of Sel’s escapades, but Sel was always going on about the Dornish beauties, roses of the Reach, goldmines of the West, or the wild Northerners.

At the sight of his siblings, Selwyn broke tradition and pushed past the lines. “There they are! The princess and her bird! Ha!”

_Gods. He grows more like Selwyn every day._

Tywin bit back a laugh as the triplets rushed to one another. They had always been inseparable, but after the Long Night they had forged an even closer bond. Sel moved to his mother and conducted himself more properly at Brienne’s warning gaze.

“Mother! Light of my life.”

“Oh gods, help me.” Brienne chuckled and pulled Sel into an embrace. Like Selwyn, the boys made Brienne look small. They were just a touch shorter than Selwyn, but still much larger than Brienne.

_The islands._

The boys still had his features despite having Selwyn’s size. Jaime always found it amusing to observe what he would look like at “Selwyn size”. It was like looking back in a mirror thirty plus years.

Sel then rushed at Jaime and engulfed him in a bear hug. “There’s the old man! Ha!” Sel dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I haven’t killed Ned yet. I wanted you to be here in person when I lay hands on him.” Sel pointed to the dragonsteel dagger at his hip. ‘Kingslayer’ he had named it.

Jaime chuckled and clapped his son’s shoulder. “Thank you. It’s the best gift for your sister’s betrothal that you could get me.”

Sel looked over his shoulder and barked a laugh. “Where are my useless siblings!? Come now, don’t tell me they rode in the fucking carriage like babes at the teat.”

Jaime cringed at Sel’s vulgarity as the young man pushed passed him and towards his siblings. The younger four had been at the rear of the royal party. While the children all loved one another immensely, there was a clear divide between the older three and the younger four.

The younger four were led by Duncan. Duncan was the babe Jaime and Brienne conceived during the Long Night. He was now nearly a man grown at six and ten. He was of Brienne’s height and had most of her features save for Jaime’s golden hair. Barristan mused that the lad resembled a smaller version of Ser Duncan the Tall.

After Duncan were twin daughters of four and ten; Arianne, after Brienne’s mother, and Arya, after Jaime’s honorary daughter. The girls looked entirely like Jaime save for Brienne’s eyes.

The twins had a smaller build akin to Catelyn, and they were deadly with steel. Like Catelyn, the twins were fighters. Despite their age, they competed in meelees and Jaime enjoyed watching them knock the boys into the dust.

The youngest of the family was ten-year-old Barristan. In truth they had been content with the six they had and planned to stop conceiving. Jaime had affectionately given Barristan a womb name of “woops” when they found out. He remembered the day the boy was born and first introduced to Ser Barristan.

“I am so honored that ‘woops’ was named after me.” The aged knight spoke teasingly, but Jaime saw the older knight’s eyes mist as he held the boy. Barristan had was still Lord Commander of the Queensguard, but he was more family than staff.

Barristan had fallen quite ill over the past year and could not manage his duties. It was a wonder the knight was still alive given his age. Still, Jaime teased Barristan that he was far too young to die. A mere seven and ten name days since he was reborn. He owed it to Westeros to live a long second life.

Sam Tarly had remained at the Keep tending to Ser Barristan during the family’s visit to Storm’s End. After the Long Night, Sam stayed at the Keep as a temporary maester of sorts until a new grandmaester was appointed. A year after the Long Night, Sam returned to the Citadel to complete his training. He was now not only a maester, but the newly appointed grandmaester at the Keep.

As the younger children made their way over, the Queensguard followed closely at their back. Ser Endrew was the unofficial Lord Commander in Barristan’s absence. Barristan had already recommended the man for the position when his time came and Jaime couldn’t agree more.

Ser Podrick Payne followed closely beside Ser Endrew. Endrew had knighted Pod ten years prior on the battlefield. The North endured a small uprising from three vassals moving against Lord Rickon Stark. The crown sent men to aid the North and the matter was dealt with easily enough.

Pod had saved Lord Rickon in battle. The young lord was nearly killed by an enemy arrow, but Pod bravely stepped before Rickon. He had a small scar on his upper arm to show for his troubles, but he was otherwise unaffected. 

As their family and guards walked towards the Baratheon family, Arya charged at Jaime and clung to him. “We’re glad you made it one piece. At your age, I imagine travel can be daunting.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “I can still fight circles around you.”

At the words, Arya raised a challenging brow and a wolfish smile. “That sounds like an invitation to spar later. I accept.”

Brienne greeted Gendry and the children before circling back to Arya. Once they were introduced to the key household staff, Brienne and Jaime made their way over to Selwyn. He looked more and more frail every year. Brienne worried after his health and wrote Sel often to inquire after her father.

Sel relayed that Selwyn downplayed everything, but he was more than losing a step. Selwyn was receiving daily treatment from the maester at Evenfall for an ailment that the older lord would not disclose.

As they moved inside, Jaime noticed how close Ned and Catelyn were. Their shoulders brushed and they looked longingly at one another.

 _Gods. Horrible. Brienne and I were nothing like that, of course_. 

If Jaime was being honest with himself, he knew that he and Brienne had been far worse. Daenerys still teased that her visits to the Red Keep frequently saw her lulled to sleep by the rocking of the castle walls.

The staff saw the guests to their rooms and the family soon made their way down for supper. They had come together to celebrate the betrothal of their children and to decide upon a date and location for the wedding.

Catelyn wanted to be wed at the Sept on Tart in the tradition of the Evenstar. Ned seemed to want for little more than making Cat happy, but still, Jaime and Brienne thought it best to discuss the matter with Arya and Gendry before deciding.

After dinner and catching up with Arya and Gendry, Jaime found himself down near the docks with the triplets. Whenever he came to Storm’s End, he liked to visit the monument that Arya had erected in Tommen’s honor.

It was a statue in honor of Tommen’s brave stand against the dead. Unlike most lords, Tommen willingly left the safety of the ships to fight before his people until his last breath. As Jaime sat near the statue, he smiled as he listened to his children.

“I can’t believe you’re agreeing to marry a Baratheon. Gods!” Sel laughed as he skipped rocks into the water.

From above, a group of gulls cawed and caught their attention. Ty looked up and laughed before looking to his brother. “He Sel, want to chase them? Lets see what tunnels we can discover this time.”

“Ha! Someone grab grandpa. We’ll throw him in a wheelbarrow so he doesn’t miss out on all the fun.”

Catelyn snorted and rolled her eyes in the most Brienne-like fashion. “You two are such dolts.” Unsheathing her sword, Catelyn swung the sword around absently. Brightroar.

Ty had seen its location in a vision two years prior. Many from House Lannister had pursued it over the years, but now it was back in their hands. Catelyn wore it at her hip until the time came to see Oathkeeper and Widow’s Wail restored as Ice. For now, Jaime and Brienne kept their swords. 

_Stronger together. Gods, I can’t imagine my life without Brienne. I only hope that when my time comes to meet the Stranger, it’s in her arms._

“So, when do I get to use this in a proper battle, Ty?” At Catelyns’ question, Jaime looked up to observe his son’s face. Ty had that look about him.

A small breeze blew through the harborside as Ty looked out over the water. “They’re less than a year out now. Make sure you take your moon tea beforehand. We don’t need you ending up with a Duncan of your own.”

Ty had spoken of a threat from the far east a few moons back. The thought of another war was draining to think on. It felt like only yesterday that they were fighting wights in defense of the living.

_I’m getting too old for this shit. I just want to watch my children grow and hold grandbabes in my arms. Brienne would make an incredible grandmother. I can think of no better mother and grandmother._

Sel’s booming voice shook the area around them and broke Jaime from his thoughts. “I’m telling you Ty! You’re missing out. You and Genna may love each other, but do you really want to look back and say you only sampled one of the lovely ladies this world has to offer. Just the other week we had some real beauties from Essos dock at Tarth for a night.”

Catelyn scrunched her nose in distaste. “You’re irredeemable. Just gross. Don’t listen to him, Ty. He can’t appreciate what we’ve found in our chosen loves.”

“Ha! Your chosen loves. We don’t get to choose who we love. Right father?” Sel looked back at Jaime with a teasing smile. It had been Jaime’s mantra over the years, and the triplets rolled their eyes every time he said it.

With a soft smile, Jaime looked at his triplets and spoke genuinely. “We don’t, but if we could, I would choose your mother every time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this and the first part. It was a looooong one. It was a fun AU to write and I'll miss these characters - especially the triplets.


End file.
